


Our Little Secret

by sis_tafics



Series: Our Little Secret [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Breathplay, Car Sex, F/M, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Fingering, Fluff and Smut, Mutual Masturbation, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Restraints, Sexting, Shower Sex, Smut, Touch-Starved, Wax Play, role play, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-12 13:38:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 119,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16873893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sis_tafics/pseuds/sis_tafics
Summary: After Dean finds out you lack some experience in a certain department, he makes it his goal to rectify that. As friends, the two of you decide there are some kinks out there definitely worth trying.





	1. Oral Fixation

It’s been a long ass day and an even longer hunt. You were more than happy to be sitting on Dean’s bed in the boys’ motel room, sipping on your second, or maybe it is the third beer. And that was just here, it wasn’t counting the four or five shots you had had down at the bar. So now you were here and Sam was riding Dean hard about his strikeout at the bar.

“Dude, you were never going home with her.”

“She doesn’t know what she’s missing out on.”

You can’t help but chuckle, “What? Two whole minutes?”

“Hey!” Dean growls, “No one asked the peanut gallery over there.” 

“Fine three minutes,” you wink and Sam starts howling, rocking his chair back on two legs.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you two are freaking hilarious.” Dean takes a sip of his beer, shaking his head. He’s quiet for a moment and the shared look and the snicker between you and Sam is all it takes, “Just because you two have boring sex lives doesn’t mean we all do.”

“Psh!” Sam scoffs. That’s the thing about Sammy, sober Sam wouldn’t have said anything, drunk Sam on the other hand most definitely did not have a filter.

And Dean doesn’t back down from a challenge, “Alright then…craziest thing you’ve ever done with a girl?”

“This isn’t a competition Dean.”

“The hell it’s not.”

Sam rolls his eyes, then smiles, thinking for a moment, “Okay, okay so this one time…” he jumps into this story about this short little brunette that wanted tied up and wanted him to let her call him daddy.

Dean smirks, “And you did, didn’t you?”

“Oh hell yes.” Sam nods, biting his bottom lip, clearly picturing that night, “Alright, your turn.”

“What? This isn’t community sharing and caring.”

“C’mon dude, you started this.” Sam shoves the bottle of Jack sitting between them towards Dean.

Dean chuckles, you know he’s been waiting to share, he’s just playing hard to get, “This one chick was ten kinds of crazy in bed, took a whole weekend to get through her list of stuff. I tied her up, she tied me up and then there were all the toys…”

And as Dean tells the story you get redder and redder, flushing deeply. One because you couldn’t beleive your two best buds were going into this much detail  in front of you, two because you realize where this conversation is going next and you don’t have a clean getaway.

“That so did not happen.” Sam laughs.

“Bullshit.”

“Dude, the three of us spend all the time together, when have you had time to sneak away for a weekend?”

“You aren’t with me all the time.”

As they argue you see your chance, starting to get off the bed, trying to think of a good excuse to get back to your room when Dean turns to you, “Your turn sweetheart.”

“Ah-I was just going to head to bed. I-…”

Dean chuckles, “C’mon Y/N we both spilled, your turn.”

“Let her out of this one Dean.”

“Yeah Dean,” You try, “Listen to your brother.”

“No way in hell…” he leans back, kicking his feet up onto the table, “I’m sure you’ve got some juicy stories.”

You shrug, trying to opt out, “Not really…Not sex toys juicy or being tied up.”

And you’re almost there, almost have your hand on the doorknob, “Like I’m going to believe that…C’mon Y/N, what’s the kinkiest thing you’ve ever done with a guy.”

You sigh, frustrated, throwing your hands up, but Dean just wiggles his eyebrows, “Or is it what’s the kinkiest thing you’ve ever done with a girl?”

“No Dean!”

“Then what is it?”

And if you weren’t a little tipsy, you probably would have just made something up to shut him up, but you couldn’t think that fast right now, “Nothing! Okay, nothing! I’ve never done that kind of stuff, just straight up sex and to be honest it isn’t that crazy or great.”

Dean laughs, like legit laughs, “No fucking way, you’re-”

“What?” You have to fight back the tears of embarrassment, “Too old to not have tried stuff like that before?”

“Please tell me you’ve done something other than missionary.”

At this point your brain isn’t keeping up with your mouth, “Yeah, like two or three times.”

Dean looks straight up shocked, “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Jesus Dean, you don’t have to be such an ass…I’m sorry that most guys don’t look like male models like you two and aren’t like you two and actually ask, or try something for longer than it takes them to get off. Or maybe you are like other guys and it’s all in your head too.”

It’s definitely too late but you make it out the door, slamming it behind you in a huff, just making it out before you actually start crying angry tears. And you’re pissed, you’re pissed for getting caught in that conversation, you’re pissed at the boys for pushing you, you’re pissed at yourself for not coming up with a lie, and more than anything you’re pissed that you’re shy and awkward and no matter what you do you can’t seem to change that.

You should go back to your room, but you need to clear your head, you need to settle down so you wrap your arms around your body and take off down the sidewalk for a walk.

It’s well after midnight, but you need this, need the cool air to calm you down. You walk towards nowhere in particular, just anywhere until your feet finally take you back to your motel room.

When you open your door the light is already on and Dean is sitting there, just chilling on your bed, “Hey.”

You open the door wide, “Get out, I don’t want to talk right now.”

“No, just let-”

“Get the hell out!”

He sighs, standing up, “I’m sorry, that’s all I wanted to say.”

You expect him to go so you leave the door open, moving in the room, tossing your jacket on the table. When you hear the door shut, you turn, expecting him to be gone but he’s still standing there, his bright green eyes watching you curiously, “But seriously Y/N?”

“Oh my god!” You groan, aspirated.

“But no, Sam and me were-…”

“Because that’s what I need,” you’re not sure if you’re annoyed or just done right now, “my friends talking about my sex life.”

“More your lack of.” He laughs at his own joke and you want to throw the chair at his head.

You sink onto the bed, covering your face, “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s not your fault you’ve been with dicks.”

You peek through your fingers as he sits on the bed, smartly out of arm’s reach, “I don’t know, it’s just not fun and it’s awkward and messy with the way we live.”

“No, they are dicks…They score a girl like you and then waste it. Their loss.”

“Their loss?” You ask quietly, letting your hands fall away from your face.

Dean shrugs, “Yeah, I mean you’re smart, you’re funny, you’re smoking hot…”

You scoff, trying not to outright laugh, “Me? Smoking hot?”

“Um yeah.” His face scrunches, confused, like it’s blatantly obvious.

“Dean Winchester,” You giggle, “you are so full of shit.”

“I’m dead fucking serious…Any guy at that bar tonight would kill to go down on you for hours.”

You roll your eyes at his stupid line, getting off the bed, trying to hid your blushing by going to grab a cup of water, “Now you are definitely full of shit, no one would want to go home with me, let alone do that.”

Grabbing the paper cup you flip on the sink, filling it up, the water covering the sound of him crossing the room, so when you feel his hand on your hip you jump, dropping the cup, your eyes darting up to meet his in the mirror, “Are you sure about that sweetheart?”

His eyes are boring into yours through the reflection, the redness now spreading from your cheeks down your neck, “I-I’m pretty sure.”

“Really?” His arm wraps around your waist slowly, gauging your reaction, his other hand brushing your hair away from your neck, his eyes never leaving yours as he presses his lips against your exposed skin, “I can think of at least one guy who thought you were the hottest girl at the bar.”

“Does that line ever work?” You mean it to sound challenging, instead it comes out breathy and nervous.

He chuckles low against your neck, “You’d be surprised.”

Dean spins you in his arms, your breath catching in your throat. Then you’re staring at his chest, that huge expanse of muscle only hidden by a tight t-shirt. Yes, you’ve thought about him before, name one girl that could spend all day with Dean Winchester and not have a fantasy or two, but this wasn’t fantasy. He was actually here, holding you up because if he wasn’t you would have melted in a puddle on the floor.

“Dean, stop,” You fumble with the words, stumbling again and again, “I-I’m not going to be an easy lay because you struck out at the bar.”

“That’s not why.” He tucks your hair behind your ear, hooking his index finger under your chin, pulling your face up, and you won’t look at him, refuse to even though you can feel his warm breath fanning over your face.

“Dean we are friends, it’s going to screw things up.”

“That’s what’s going to make this easier,” his voice is low and you’re finally able to look up into those olive green eyes, the ones that are so intent on you, that crinkle when your’s meet his, “We already know each other, and you’re not afraid to tell me to fuck off.”

His words make you crack, a half laugh and a half smile to match, “Dean, I’m-I’m just not sure if this is a great idea, I’m not that great at this, at sex.”

He leans down his nose touching yours, his lips just barely out of reach, “I doubt that…Plus this way you have a couple good stories next time.”

You suck in a deep breath, trying not to focus on how good he smells, how intoxicating the old spice and whiskey are, “Just friends?”

He nods, his forehead pressing against yours as his lips brush over yours, “Just friends.”

“Okay,” You breathe and that’s all it takes, his lips press against yours and you let your eyes fall closed and feel him against you; his strong arms holding you against his huge body, his chapped lips moving over your soft ones.

He nips at your bottom lip, asking for entrance that you freely give, tongues sliding against one another until your lungs burn and you have to pull away, gasping for air, brain fuzzy.

Your hands slide down his front, fingertips sliding under his belt as you try to undo it.

“No sweetheart,” His hands cover yours, “take it easy.”

“But-”

“Who’s got the better stories?” He teases.

You huff, rolling your eyes, tossing your hands up, “Fine…Do what you do Dean Winchester.”

“I plan to,” he winks, reaching out, pulling you closer by your belt, the pressure making you unsteady and you almost fall against him.

He watches you for a minute, biting his bottom lip and you can practically see the wheels spinning in his head as his hands move to the top button of your shirt, undoing it with one hand exposing the top of your breasts. Dean watches your chest heave in anticipation, you’ve never had someone look at you like that, memorizing, making you wait, letting it build up.

His knuckles brush over the flushed skin and you immediately reach out, unable to help yourself, grabbing at his t-shirt, fisting your hands in the fabric and Dean’s patience falls away. He growls low, pulling you against him by your hips as you hold onto him, his fingers making quick work of the rest of your buttons, shoving the shirt off your shoulders as you push up on his.

Dean shoves you back a little, reaching over his head and tearing his shirt over his head, his eyes only leaving yours for that moment. You can’t help but stare, the broad muscled chest flecked with freckles, the anti possession tattoo to the side.

He doesn’t give you much time to really appreciate it though, rushing forward, hooking his hands on the back of your thighs, lifting you backwards onto the bed, letting you fall and drag him with you, his weight trapping you there.

God, it feels like he’s everywhere. His lips trail over your jaw, kissing at your neck, down to where it crooks into your shoulder. His finger run over your skin, hand stopping to cup your breast, his thumb playing over the thin fabric, making the heat pool between your legs.

You let out a needy moan that leaves Dean smiling against your skin. He leans back on his knees, undoes your belt and the button to your jean and before you can protest slips his hand down the front of your pants, his fingers playing at your folds.

“Oh g-god.” You stutter, back arching off the bed, hips trying to rock against his hand of their own accord. But Dean presses his free hand on your hip, holding you still as his fingers slide past the thin layer of your panites, dipping into your wet fold, just barely grazing over your clit. And that small sensation makes you whimper, “Dean.”

“Yeah sweetheart?” His voice is soft and you have no idea how he is this calm about this other than when Dean Winchester focuses on something, he really fucking focuses.

“Please Dean.”

He smirks, “You told me to do what I do.”

Before you can come up with a witty response Dean’s mouth makes your mind go blank, the worst part is it’s just his mouth moving over any skin he can get to, alternating between licks, open mouth kisses and small sucks. All of it drives your fucking insane with need, leaves your gripping the sheets so hard your fingers hurt.

He’s jerks your pants down and you can feel his warm breath over your mound, “Dean you don’t have-” but your words become choked as his mouth covers you pussy on the outside of your panties, his tongue pressing the cloth against your clit.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said a guy would kill to go down on you for hours…But I will keep it a little more reasonable tonight,” he teases.

“D-Dean, not that I don’t-I…” How do you tell him that the one time a guy actually spent more than about five seconds down there that it was shit and you had to fake your way through it to move on.

He crawls up your body, dragging his lips over your body until his eyes are even with yours, “I know what I’m doing in that department sweetheart.”

“Cocky son of a bitch.” You tease, running your hands up his body to either side of his face.

Dean winks, “I got reason to be.”

Just like that he gets you to laugh, to relax, “Alright, on with you and your oral fixation.”

He laughs, “My oral fixation?”

“You stick everything in your fucking mouth, now this, plus you should see yourself eat.”

“So you watch me a lot?” He teases, nipping at your collarbone, making you lose all train of thought. Dean hooks a finger through the front of your bra, dragging it down until your breasts pop over the top, nipples harden at the combination of Dean and the cold air.

Suddenly you feel self conscious, because there is so little now that he hasn’t seen and you are really going there with your friend. Suddenly it’s real and god what is he thinking? What about the scars? What about your far from perfect body?

You push it from your mind, more like Dean pushes it from your mind as his mouth covers your one nipple, sucking at it, running his teeth over the sensitive bud and then swirling it with his tongue.

Tangling your fingers in his hair, he let’s out a low growl, switching to the other nipple, giving it the same attention. Your feet dig into the mattress, pushing your body up against his, your needy core looking for some kind of relief, any kind of fiction.

Your thighs grip around his sides, your back arching off the bed as he tugs the bud between his  teeth, pulling until it slips past, making you jump underneath him, tugging his hair hard enough that he growls, “You wanna come like this baby?”

“I don’t th-,” yeah, that’s a lie. Before now you didn’t think you could, but right now you are so turned on that your skin feels like it’s buzzing, “God yes.”

Dean nips at the inside of your breasts and grinds himself against you, and you can feel his hard cock through the denim, grinding against your soaked panties, pressing the material against your clit, “F-fuck Dean.”

His thumb rubs over your left nipple, his mouth covering your right making you moan and plead with him, begging him for more, the seat breaking out across your skin as you get more and more desperate for him.

His fingers twist and tug at the same in time with his mouth, driving you higher as he pushes himself down against you. That’s all it takes, your orgasm catching you by surprise, rushing through you, your head snapping back, stuttering out his name as your muscles tighten.

Dean doesn’t wait for you to come down, pushing your pants the rest of the way down, settling between your thighs, “On a scale of one to ten how much do you like these panties.”

You laugh, half sitting up, “Like a two, wh-”

You’re cut off by the pressure on your hip and the sound of them being ripped from you. Jesus Christ, it should be corny, you shouldn’t be this turned on but you can’t take your eyes off him. You reach for him, wanting to feel him against you again.

“Nope,” Dean wraps his arms around you legs, jerking, pulling you down the bed, making you fall back against the pillows, “sit back and enjoy the ride sweetheart.”

“De-Oh god,” you shiver, his huge hands covering your stomach as his nose plays at your folds, running up and down. Him barely touching you fucks you up more than anything, it makes you wriggle under him.

You push your feet into the bed, trying to gain some leverage, push yourself against that sinful mouth. Dean chuckles, moving his shoulders so your feet barely touch the mattress, his hands pushing you down, holding you still.

His tongue dips past your lips dragging over your entrance up to your clit, circling it gently. Your chest heaves, your thighs tightening around his ears.

“Nope again sweetheart,” He pushes your legs apart, opening you to him. Your back arches and you whimper as his tongue dips in and out of your pussy, teasing you.

Your fingers tangle in the sheet, hips rolling as much as he lets you. God his mouth, and he takes his time, figuring out what makes you twitch, what makes you scream and cry out for more. Dean takes you higher and higher, sucking on your clit then fucking you with his tongue.

“Dean! Fuck.” You cry out.

He grunts at your calls for him, his mouth too preoccupied to respond properly. And it’s so hard to keep your eyes open and watch him but it’s absolutely impossible to look away. Dean’s olive eyes glance up, catching yours and you can swear he smiles as he pauses for a moment.

That moment was the only moment you would have to catch your breath.

The next second his arms tighten around you, burying his face in your pussy. All those spots he had teased and memorized, he focuses in on them. You yell, not even thinking of the rooms around you as you call out his name over and over again, thrashing against him.

Your voice catches in your throat as his lips latch around your clit, your pussy clenching, your body falling apart at the seams as you come hard against his mouth. Dean doesn’t let up, his tongue moving against you, sucking at your juices as your fingers tangle in his short hair and you pull harder than you mean to. Your vision goes black as your body rocks and Dean lets you move freely.

Every part of you is shaking uncontrollably and you can barely breathe, lungs only taking short and shallow pants. Your toes curl so hard that your feet cramp.

“G-goddammit,” You finally are able to choke out, Dean letting your legs fall from his shoulders as he climbs up your body, kissing your trembling skin as he works his way up.

“Is that goddammit good or goddammit bad?” He smiles, his lips just crazing over yours.

“What do you think Winchester?” But you don’t give him the chance to answer, wrapping your arm around the back of his neck, pressing your lips against his, kissing him, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue. And god you could get lost in this, the way his tongue moves against yours, the way you move together, it just feels, well, easy and natural.

You push at his shoulder gently once and sensing his confusion, you push a little harder until he takes the hint, falls to the side, rolling onto his back, pulling you with him so you are straddling him, “My turn.”

Normally you would be so embarrassed by those words, you would sink into this hole of doubt. But the way he is looking at you, like he is having the time of his life, like he wants nothing more than you right now.

You lean down, running your lips over his jaw, down his neck, your tongue tracing the lines on his neck. You make your way down his body, tasting the saltiness from his sweat, feeling his muscles tighten and twitch under your touches.

“Fuck Y/N.” You smile at the strained tone of his voice as you reach his hipbone, your fingers curling in the waistband of his jeans as you bite at the skin there, his hips jerking up.

You sit back over his thighs, slowly unbuttoning his jeans and pulling the zipper down, pushing the denim and his boxer briefs down his hips, his cock springing free, lying hard against his stomach, precum leaking from the tip.

You shuffle back on the bed, taking his pants with you, ditching your bra and tossing it somewhere in the room. Fuck, he’s thick, cock twitching in anticipation as you kneel back on the bed, taking the tip of your tongue and running it up the vein on the underside, his stomach tightening as he grunts.

You keep teasing, taking the base in your hand, swirling just the tip in your mouth, getting wetter and wetter with every little sound he makes. God, maybe Dean isn’t the only one with an oral fixation, but you’ve never had someone react to you this way, never had someone sit back and take what you are willing to give at that moment.

Suddenly Dean sits up, cupping your chin, pulling you away, “Fuck Y/N, you gotta stop if I’m gonna last.”

You can’t help the triumpant little smirk, leaning forward and kissing him as you scoot, moving yourself over him, rubbing your slick over him, the head of his cock hitting your clit, sending little shockwaves through you.

“Tease,” Dean growls, moving faster than you can think, flipping you underneath of him.

“I thought you were offended that I hadn’t done much than missionary?” You joke, biting your bottom lip.

He pushes your thighs apart, pressing the tip of his cock into your entrance, barely sliding in, “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Then he pushes himself all the way in, slowly, the way he stretches you creating a slow burn throughout your body. Dean presses his forehead against yours, your breaths mixing as he slowly rolls his hips, his cock dragging out and then back in.

Dean never goes any faster, just slow, even thrusts that make you feel like you are losing your goddamn mind. Your legs wrap around his hips, your heels pressing into his ass, pressing him on as the fire builds in your lower stomach.

Dean reaches down, unhooking your one leg, pushing it up and deepening the angle, the head of his cock rubbing over your g-spot, making you gasp, breath getting caught in your throat.

“D-dean, god.”

“Come on sweetheart, you’re right there.” And you know he is too, his pace becoming erratic, his cock throbbing inside of you.

A few more thrusts, his pelvic bone grinding against your clit and you are over the edge, the warmth spreading through you as you continue to roll your hips, dragging out your orgasm that washes through you, this settling, warm feeling.

Dean shouts your name, wrapping his arms around you tightly as he comes, his thrusts quick and uneven, his cock twitching.

After Dean can think straight he flops down beside you and you lay next to each other on your backs, panting, trying to catch your breath. Your hand is resting against his chest and his fingers find it, lacing through yours, “You were definitely wrong about you not being good.”

You smile, blissed out, “Shut up.”

“Yeah, yeah, you know I can’t do that,” He chuckles, playing with your fingers, “Hey Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You let your head fall to the side so you can watch him, so close that the tip of your nose brushes against his cheek..

Dean rolls on his side, propping himself on his elbow, his fingertips brushing your cheek as he struggles with the words, “What do you think about just trying shit with each other?”

“What?” You’re confused.

“Yeah, I mean we are obviously good with each other, who better to get kinky with than you?”

“I can think of about ten people off the top of my head that would be better than me.”

“But, you know- I mean tell me you didn’t just have fun?”

You shrug, “Yeah, but-”

“See, we can get rid of all those shitty memories for you and make some new ones for me. It could be a good way to have fun.”

“Alright,” you sigh, he’s not wrong. With Dean you aren’t going to have to worry about the judgement or getting embarrassed, “but how’s it going to work? Just print off a list of kinky shit and just go yeah, maybe, probably not, and never in a million fucking years?”

Dean laughs, “Sure, we can do it like that.”

“And anything either of us doesn’t want to try is off limits?” You know what he’s going to say but you gotta throw it out there.

“Of course sweetheart,” Dean touches your face, “it can be our thing.”

“Our little secret?” You joke.

“You make it sound so forbidden, “ He winks.

You cackle, pushing his chest, trying to shove him off the edge, “You can get the hell outta my bed.”

“Nope, planting my ass here for the night,” He wraps his arms around you, rolling you underneath him as he pokes at your ribs, enough to make you laugh maniacally before his lips cover yours and your laughs turn into small moans, your hips pushing up against his.

By the time you pass out, totally spent and exhausted, you’ve lost track of how many times Dean’s made you come undone, everything blurs together and you’re lost in this whirlwind of, well, Dean. You’ve lost track of time and you are just hoping it’s still the same night and this isn’t some wild dream that your brain cooked up.

You hear his belt buckle jingle and roll over towards the sound, brain fuzzy from orgasms and sleep, “Dean?”

“Hey…” His hand rubs up and down your side, “I’m going to get back.”

You blink a couple of times, pre-dawn lights coming in around the curtains, “S-Sam didn’t know?”

Dean laughs, “Hell no, I just told him I was going to talk and watch a movie with you. He was asleep before I walked out the door.”

 

“‘ ‘kay,” You curl up, pulling the covers up.

 

His fingers brush over your cheeks, and later that day you will realize that he probably didn’t want to leave, but now, you just know it feels good and warm, “Go back to sleep sweetheart, we don’t have to leave here for a while.”

“ ‘kay.”

The last thing you hear before you fall back asleep is his low chuckle and the door close.


	2. Breath Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are unsure where you and Dean stand on your little arrangement

You wake up slowly, not wanting to let go of this dream, this kick ass, wonderful dream. Your eyes flutter open, it’s got to be late morning by the looks of the light and sure as hell when you turn to look at the radio clock, it’s well after nine.

Lying there for a moment, the realization washes over you - that hadn’t been a dream or a fantasy or wishful thinking, Dean had been here with you last night. The hickies on the inside of your breasts, and the slight soreness between you thighs are clear evidence of that.

 

Suddenly you feel scared and nervous, how are you supposed to get out of bed and face him? Yeah, sure, you had said ‘just friends’, but your chronically over-thinking brain is analyzing this from every angle. Why now? Had he meant any of it or was he just trying to get laid? Was he serious about trying other stuff? Were you going to?

“Ugh,” you huff, pushing the thoughts aside for now. It was just sex, this is just Dean, he is just your friend, and that’s all you ever want it to be.

When you finally get dressed and head outside with your bag, Dean is packing his and Sam’s stuff in the trunk of the Impala. As he sees you he smiles, eyes crinkling, “Hey sleepyhead, thought I was going to have to send Sam to roll your ass out of bed.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you throw your bag into the trunk, “Not likely Winchester.”

And just like that, everything falls into place and you aren’t caught up on last night, you’re just here with your best friend, getting ready to hit the road for another hunt. It’s just another day.

Then a week.

Then a month.

____

“Alright boys,” you mock salute them, “getting my own room, I can’t deal with you two farting and snoring and your stinky socks another night.”

Dean laughs, “What about us dealing with your farting and snoring and stinky socks?”

“Psh,  I don’t have a single one of those problems…We crashing for the weekend?”

Dean nods but Sam clears his throat, “I was going to see if the library is still open, maybe do some research and catch another case.”

“Sam,” you scold, “take a damn break.”

He shrugs, “Dean and you will probably hit up the bar and I don’t really want to go.”

You laugh, “Well I’m not going anywhere but the shower and then to bed and watching TV. ‘Night boys.”

That’s exactly what you do, so you are a little surprised about an hour later when you are sitting on your bed, hair still damp and there is a soft knock on your door. But you aren’t at all surprised to find Dean on the other side.

“Thought you would hit up the local bar?”

“Figured I would bring the bar to you,” Dean holds up a six pack, “Nice shorts.”

You turn red, your shorts barely cover anything but they are comfy as hell, “Thanks.”

Dean sets the beer on the nightstand, “Plus I saw there were Dr. Sexy MD reruns on and I knew you would be watching.” He pops a beer open, tosses his jacket down and plops onto your bed, kicking his boots off and letting them fall to the floor with a thump.

You roll your eyes and sit next to him, leaning back against the pillows and the headboard, shoulders just touching. This was one of your and Dean’s guilty pleasure shows that he would only watch when he was sure Sam was long gone for a few hours.

Dean’s watching the episode intently when a few sheets of folded paper sticking out of the pocket of his jacket catch your eye. You stare for a moment, trying to make out the few words that you can see. And then you come across the work ‘kink’ and you know.

You reach forward quickly, grabbing the papers before Dean knows what you are doing. The moment he realizes, he tries to stop you, “Y/N, I know you don’t-it’s fine.”

You smack his hand away, “Dean Winchester, are you embarrassed?”

“No. I-…”

“You actually printed off a list of kinks and toys…” Your eyes scroll through the seemingly endless list, “and some positions.”

“Well you had suggested it,” he mumbles.

“So you still want to do this?” you ask quietly, unsure, he hadn’t mentioned anything over the last month.

“Fuck yeah.” He looks over at you, slightly confused.

“Okay.” You can’t help the small smile that crosses your lips. You try to hide it, reaching over for a pen, “Let’s do this thing.”

You settle back against him and Dean slings his arm around your shoulder, reading over you.

“Dean, I don’t know what three quarters of this shit is. And the quarter I do know, I’ve never come anywhere near doing.”

“That’s okay sweetheart, let’s just start at the top.”

And you do, going through kink by kink, crossing off stuff that you or he would never ever do, leaving little stars by ones that you would be cool with now and leaving alone the ones that are a possibility.

“Face riding?”

“Yeah it’s when a girl is-”

You smack his chest lightly, “I know what it is, I just didn’t know that was like, a kink thing.”

He adjusts, sliding down so your legs tangle together and there is practically no space left, “It definitely is.”

You swallow, shy and nervous all of a sudden because this is really happening, “And it is one of yours?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay,” you try not to let yourself over react or overthink, but it’s near impossible. So you just push on, getting through about fifteen or so more.

 

“Fisting? Hell no,” you say, crossing it off without even listening to what he is about to say.

Dean chuckles, “Why not?”

You point, “Have you seen the size of your damn hands? That is not going up there.”

“Touche.”

You keep reading through, Dean putting his two cents in every once in awhile, but not pushing you to pick anything you aren’t inclined to do. You get a couple good laughs in when he explains some more of the exotic ones, because never in a million years had you even thought some of these would be real.

“Edging?” You ask tentatively, thinking you know what it is but asking anyways.

“I keep building you up but stopping as you are about to come.” You don’t fail to notice how he is keeping himself detached, like he’s trying not to set himself up for disappointment.

“Alright.” You put a star beside it, and you can feel his surprise because it’s one of only a dozen or so that you have starred so far.

You get through the first page and flip over to the next, “Breath play? I don’t think that’s-”

“I think you’d like it, you’re really reactive.”

“What?” You look back at him.

He looks down at you and smirks, remembering, “Yeah.”

“But,” you play with your fingers, “isn’t it kinda- I don’t know- dangerous?”

“I’d never hurt you.” His words are firm, absolute, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world.

You’re just quiet for a moment, not sure what to say. You know Dean wouldn’t suggest it if he didn’t think you would like it, but at the same time the thought of it scares the shit out of you.

“Here,” Dean says quietly, pulling the paper from your hand and setting it on the nightstand next to the empty bottles of beer. His arm behind you guides you to move, until you are straddling his lap, face to face with him, “Let me show you. Do it to me first.”

He leans forward, closing the small distance and kisses you softly, his lips in no hurry against yours. It’s sweet and gentle and you chase it when he pulls away.

“Put your hand on my throat,” Dean instructs, but you hesitate, “It’s fine Y/N, you’re good. Anytime you want to stop, just tell me.”

“Okay.” You nod uneasily, looking into those olive eyes, looking for hesitation, but all you see is encouragement. You place your right hand around his throat, feeling the rough stubble under your palm.

“Squeeze, don’t push.”

You nod like a bobble head doll, flexing your fingers, watching for any sign that you are hurting him.

Immediately his eyes roll back and he lolls to the side, body shaking.

“Dean, oh god.” You hurt him, fuck, the panic sets in, heart pounding in your chest like crazy as you hold his face between your hands, “Dean?”

He starts to laugh, howling, body shaking so hard it moves you, “You should have seen your face.”

“Dean,” you smack his shoulder as he sits back up, pulling you close, “You asshole.”

“C’mon, it was funny!”

“No it wasn’t,” you try to sound annoyed, but it was such a Dean move. And if you hadn’t been so nervous, had actually thought it through, you knew what it actually took to hurt a person. Asshole.

He’s sitting so he’s nose to nose with you, he nuzzles your cheek before kissing you, still chuckling low, “You know it was.”

“Maybe a little.” And you’re lost, lost in everything that is Dean as his lips move against yours. You run your hands over his chest, down to pull his t-shirt off, breaking the kiss long enough to tug it over his head.

He pulls you back to him, his tongue invading your mouth as his arms wrap around you, his hands slipping down the back of your shorts and squeezing your ass as the two of you make out like horny teenagers.

He tugs at the back of your t-shirt and you take the hint, pulling your lips away from his, lifting the hem up and over your head, tossing it somewhere in the room.

“No bra?” Dean smirks, eyes exploring your body.

You can’t help but swallow hard, suddenly nervous and self conscious, “I-I told you I was planning on bed.”

His hand comes up, cupping your cheek, “Do you even want to do this Y/N?”

“Yes,” you say quickly. Too quickly, because he cocks his eyebrow. You sigh, “I do, I just-I get…Dammit. When you look at me like that I get, well, a little self conscious.”

Dean takes a deep breath, brushing loose strands of hair away from your face, “You shouldn’t be. You’re fucking gorgeous, and I wouldn’t be looking if I didn’t like what I see.”

You lean forward, kissing him again, catching him off guard. He responds, his hands tangling in your hair as yours run up and down his chest, feeling the warm skin. You take his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging lightly, your hand moving back to his throat, squeezing gently.

Dean pants, “Harder sweetheart.”

You readjust on his lap, now unable to ignore the growing bulge beneath his jeans that you can so easily feel in your current position. You squeeze gently, letting your fingers get tighter and tighter, his lips part, tongue flicking over them as he can no longer suck in a breath.

He fights the urge to struggle by rolling his hips up, clothed cock rutting against your core, making you whimper and grind back in return.

Dean’s cheeks flush pink, his eyes darkening, and just as you hear the strangled gasps you let go. Dean reaches forward quickly, holding your hips firmly in place as he rolls and grinds himself roughly against you, his lips immediately finding your skin, kissing it between gasps.

You realize right there why he pushed  this particular kink. The way his face looked, the way his body reacted, the way his cock jumped against you when you let go; it turned you on watching him as much as it had turned him on by you doing it. Your ruined panties are proof of that.

Dean growls, flipping you underneath him as you squeak with surprise. He trails his nose down your jaw, kissing your neck before he sits back on his knees, his fingers hooking in your shorts, tugging them and your panties down your legs slowly, revealing you to him.

He backs off the bed, unbuckling his pants, letting them fall to the floor before pushing down his boxers. Goddamn he’s something to look at, and he let’s you look this time. Just seemingly miles of tanned freckled skin, with lean muscle underneath. Radiating strength and sureness.

“So how am I supposed to feel when you stare?” he asks, voice low and you’re snapped out of your little trance, realizing he’s stroking his cock slowly under your gaze.

You blush, “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it sweetheart,” he chuckles.

“C’mere,” he beckons and you rise to your knees, shuffling to the edge of the bed where he motions. As soon as he can reach you his hands touch you, bringing you to him, kissing you before spinning you so your back is pressed against his chest, his cock against your ass.

You’re nervous and shy, but somehow it’s better. You aren’t worried about what your face is doing or how you look, just caught up in how warm he his, how he feels against you.

Dean’s lips find your shoulder, kissing the skin there, nipping at it as his hands move over your front, one moving up and the other moving down. His hand palms over your breast, giving it a small squeeze before moving so he can thumb at your nipple, the sensation going straight to your pussy.

As his other fingers play at the outer lips of your pussy you grind your ass back against him, a little smug from the moan you drag from him and the way he bites your shoulder a little harder.

His fingers slip past, finding your clit, circling it slowly, but firm with enough pressure to drive you crazy, make your head spin.

“You’re so wet sweetheart,” he murmurs against your skin, his fingers sliding closer to your entrance, a single finger dipping in and out slowly to the first knuckle.

“Dean.” His name comes out like a plea, and it’s exactly that; a plea for more.

A second finger joins his first and they pump in and out as his palm rubs against your clit, his other hand still toying at your breasts; thumbing, pulling, twisting.

He curls his fingers, the tips pressing against your g-spot, and you’re rocking against him, fucking yourself on his hand as he pushes you higher and higher, the pressure inside you building.

You grip onto his forearms as your body buzzes, pussy clenching around his fingers.

“Dean- I’m gonna….” Before you can finish your sentence, Dean curls his fingers, sending you over the edge, your body convulsing in his arms, continuing to fuck itself of it’s own accord as you shutter, yelling his name.

Dean doesn’t say anything, just grunts low and strained as he pushes your legs farther apart, making you arch your back as far as it can go, his cock splitting the lips of your pussy as it slides along your heat, coating it with your juices.

He presses the tip against your entrance, sliding in with one fluid movement. You realize quickly why he isn’t saying a word, why his breathing is labored, matching yours. His cock is throbbing, twitching inside you with every little sound you make, he’s trying like hell to hold off until he feels you around him.

You let your head fall back on his shoulder, turning, pressing your lips to his neck, whispering against his skin, “Please fuck me.”

That’s all it takes, he holds you tight, his hips pumping, thrusting hard so your ears are filled with the sound of his hips slamming against your ass. And god, it feels so good, you feel so full as his cock fills you up over and over again.

Your shouting indiscernible words when you feel his hand slide up to your throat, resting there.

Immediately there’s the instinctual fear, but you push it aside, you’re far too turned on right now, “Yes”

His fingers flex, and he slowly applies pressure, never missing a beat as he slams into you and you push back against him, trying to take him deeper.

It doesn’t hurt, not like you thought it would, instead it makes you hotter, makes you want him more. He squeezes some more and you can no longer pull air into your lungs. They try to take over, trying to make you gasp, but fail.

Your brain starts to go fuzzy, your legs shake and your pussy clenches, everything feels like it’s on fire. The lack of air makes everything feel insanely intense and mind blowing.

Your hand flies back, tangling in his short hair, gripping tightly as you struggle to stay upright, muscles fighting to give out. Black spots start to cloud your vision and Dean slams into you harder, his other hand rubbing your clit.

Just when you start to get tunnel vision, Dean lets go, letting your fall forward as he thrusts hard and you come undone. The bloodrush to your head makes you convulse, gripping the sheets as you scream. Everything explodes, your pussy fluttering around his cock, clenching hard as you tremble, wave after wave crashing over you as he continues to thrust erratically, growling out your name as you feel his hot cum spurt inside you.

He collapses, half beside you, half on you and you both lay there, shaking, sweaty messes. You still feel like you are on fire, even as his cock softens inside you and he moves enough to slide out. You pant and gasp unable to bring yourself under control, your body trembling.

“Hey,” Dean says softly and you whimper in response, turning in time for him to wrap you up in his arms and pull you to the top of the bed with him.

He brushes the hair plastered to your face away, kissing your forehead gently, “You okay?”

You nod, still not trusting yourself to speak.

“Y/N, I need you to say something.”

“Holy shit.” You choke out.

Dean laughs, “So good then?”

Your eyes meet his, “I think good is an understatement.”

He smiles, “Well, it was a good pick then.”

Oh yeah, the list, “That was better than I thought it would be, it wasn’t as scary after you let me do it to you.”

“I kinda figured.” He pulls the sheets over the two of you, holding you close to his chest, “You’re still shaking.”

You are but it’s because every little touch still feels intense, “It’s fine, I’m fine.”

“Alright good, because we are just getting started with this,” he teases, “Can’t have you tapping out yet.”

“Never gonna happen Winchester.”


	3. Edging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You head out for a new hunt, Dean has some plans for the trip

“Hey there sweetheart.” Dean’s leaning against the Impala in the bright morning light.

“Hey yourself,” you walk past him, heading for the trunk with your duffle, “Thought we were rolling at six, where’s Sam?”

Just as you pass him, his arm wraps around your waist, stopping you and spinning you, pinning your back to the warm metal of the car, “He just got up and is getting a shower.”

Your breathing becomes labored immediately, heartbeat quickening, your bag slipping from your fingers, “D-dean, we are so going to get caught.”

“We got five or ten minutes, everyone else is still sleeping,” he whispers in your ear, voice low as he positions himself between your legs, pressing his crotch against you, his cock already half hard under the denim.

Dean presses his lips to yours, the kiss needy, his tongue invading your mouth. God, he tastes like cinnamon and a hint of mint, which you wouldn’t think would go together, but it’s somehow intoxicating with him.

His lips move down your jaw to your neck, your head falls back, thumping lightly against the metal as he pushes your top button to the side, sucking a mark right below your collarbone, leaving you gasping, desperately holding in a moan.

Dean’s fingers undo your belt buckle, then the button on your jeans. You want to protest, tell him that someone is probably watching out their window and getting one hell of a show, but you can’t. You are so incredibly turned on, you want him to fuck you right here, right now, damn whoever is watching.

His hand slides down the front of your jeans, past your panties, his fingers parting the lips of your pussy, circling your clit, making your legs shake and your breath hitch.

You roll yourself against his hand, but Dean pushes his hip against yours, holding you still as his lips press to your neck, his first two fingers sliding to the first knuckle inside your pussy. If he wasn’t holding you up, you would fall to the ground, your knees trembling uncontrollably.

Dean pumps his fingers, curling them against your g-spot, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit until you press your face into the crook of his neck, biting on his shirt to keep quiet.

His low voice growls in your ear, “You’re so wet sweetheart, that tight pussy clenching around my fingers.”

“O-oh g-god,” you stutter out, holding tightly to him as his fingers pump faster.

“You like that? Like the way my fingers feel?” He bites at your earlobe.

“F-fuck,” you gasp.                

“Yes or no sweetheart?” Scissoring his fingers to enunciate his words.  

“Yes,” you breathe out, “fuck yes.”

God, you’re almost there, it should be embarrassing how fast he got you there, but you can’t think about that, can’t think past his fingers pushing so perfectly against your sweet spot and his hot breath fanning over your neck.

You’re teetering right on the edge and he pulls away, “Time’s up sweetheart.”

“W-what?” You choke, staring at him in disbelief as you try to catch your breath, only able to manage short and shallow pants.

“Fuck Sam, took you long enough.” Dean says, turning his attention to the other side of the car.

You spin quickly and see Sam coming down the sidewalk, having turned the corner of the motel just seconds prior, “Oh sure, give me shit. Y/N hasn’t gotten her bag in the car yet either.”

“She’s was out here before your ass.”

You struggle while they bicker, trying to get your pants back zipped and buttoned, your buckle done without being obvious. As soon as you are done you snatch your bag off the ground, trying to act normal, keep your breathing even.

“Y/N!” Sam’s voice brings you out of your own little world; your extremely turned on and frustrated little world.

“Wh-” You look up and he’s right there, staring at you.

“I said your name like five times…You feeling okay? You’re a little red.” His eyes are full of concern.

You wave him off, “Yeah, yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just still waking up I guess.”

“You sure?”

“Yep,” you nod quickly, “What are we waiting for? Get in and let’s go hunting.”

You steal a glance across the car as Sam gets in shotgun, catching Dean’s eyes. He smirks and winks. That asshole had done it on purpose.

______

State number one. The throbbing between your legs is still there and there is nothing you can do about it, only sink further into frustration.

State number two. It’s dulled a bit, but you swear every bump in the road is just making you hornier and more in need of release. Is that even possible?

State number three. You’re going to spontaneously combust. Dean catches your eye in the rearview every once in awhile and you pointedly look away.

Gas station break. Switch seats.

State number four and the sun sets. Sam’s soft snores fill the Impala, and the dim light from the dash and the street lights cast shadows over Dean’s face.

“Got something to say sweetheart?” That cocky edge to his voice.

You cross your arms, attempting to act angry. In all reality, all you can think about is his huge hands on that steering wheel. Dammit.

“Not a thing.” You mumble, tearing your eyes from his hands, staring out the windshield.

You feel his huge, warm hand on your thigh, right above your knee. It’s nothing, barely a touch and your body is buzzing, “You sure ‘bout that?”

His hand slides further up your leg. You struggle to keep your resolve, “Y-yes.”

“Uh-huh,” but that’s all he says, his eyes staying focused on the road, his hand continuing to move up and down in a slow, burning rhythm.

Your chest heaves, your eyes pressing shut, legs falling apart as you scoot closer to him.

“I figured we could give this one a shot,” his voice is low, “I mean, you starred it.”

Edging. Fuck, he was talking about edging. Fuck, damn, shit, and whatever other damn curse you can think of. You nod and, swallowing hard, try to prepare yourself mentally.

His fingers slide down the seam in your jeans, his entire hand covering your clothed pussy. You sink down in the seat, pushing yourself against his hand that he curls, putting pressure there, flexing his fingers over and over. You’re fighting the urge to whine. You want, no, you need more.

Your head lolls to the side, resting against the back of the seat so you can watch him. You bite your lip, hands moving quickly, unbuckling your belt, undoing the button on the jeans and sliding the zipper down.

Dean fights a smile playing at the corner of his lips. He’s driving, but if it wasn’t life threatening you would fuck him right here, right now. And that in itself is weird, you’ve never wanted sex like this, never wanted someone like this. Dean makes this fun, an experience, not just something to get off and kill time.

You place your right hand over his, guiding it to the top of your pants. His fingers dip into your panties, teasing at the outside of your lips, these faint little ghost touches, just enough to let you know he’s there.

You relax against the seat, trying to let your mind go blank, to take and enjoy what he is willing to give you at the moment. But it’s so hard to hold yourself back when he’s within reach and he looks like that.

His index finger parts your slick folds, tracing along the outside of your clit, not quite touching the little bundle of nerves. Your hand shoots out and grips  his thigh, nails digging into ground yourself as you spread your legs wider, giving him more access.

Dean doesn’t say a word, doesn’t react, his eyes staying glued to the road as he teases you. His fingers  will just barely glance your clit, before continuing on, barely dipping into your entrance, then starting the loop all over again. It drives you absolutely mad and it takes every fiber of your being not to react, not to make a sound as the sweat breaks out across your brow.

“Don’t come,” his voice barely audible over the radio and Sam’s snoring.

You nod in response, only once because the next second he  slides deep into your pussy and you have to fight the urge to moan, biting the inside of your cheek so hard you taste blood. His fingers pump smoothly, slowly while the heel of his hand grinds against your clit.

Your skin is on fire, every single nerve on edge. But he keeps his thrusts  shallow, his touches soft, giving just enough to make you insane but not enough to come undone.

You can’t help it anymore, your thighs clenching around his hand, trying desperately to find some sort of release. Then,  just as your heart starts beating uncontrollably and your vision becomes blurry, he pulls away, leaving you a panting mess.

He removes his hand from your pants, careful not to touch you anymore. It’s probably a good thing, because a brush on your clit would get you off right now. You breathe heavily, trying to bring your body back down, control the throbbing between your legs.

Dean brings his fingers to his mouth. You can’t help but let out a  small whine as his mouth wraps around each finger , sucking your slick off each finger, making a show of it. You squeeze your thighs together, trying desperately not to come, because you are pretty sure you could come untouched, watching him.

Slowly, you get your wits about you and go to button your pants. But Dean grabs your hand, “We still have a long trip.”

God, you wonder how many more times you could endure this.

____

Five. The answer was five times,  before Dean has to pull into a gas station because he is running the Impala on fumes. Sam wakes up, switching seats with you so you can get some sleep.

Sleep never comes. You are wound too tight, too in need of release. You are ninety-nine percent sure all Dean needs to do is brush by you, make skin to skin contact and you will fall apart.

Of all the times you had to make a two day trip for a hunt, this was it. There was no getting away, no getting a motel room and taking care of it yourself. Just miles and miles of confined space and heated glances.

When Dean finally parks at the motel in the little po-dunk town, you’re confident your panties are ruined. You get checked in, unfortunately there is only one room left, but you aren’t about to let that stop you.

“Dean, you wanna go with me to grab some take out?”

He looks at you curiously for a moment before you see the recognition cross his face, “Sure thing…Sam!” He calls to his brother who is already halfway in the room, “You want some grub?”

“Salad.” Sam calls back, not even bothering to turn around, which is probably a good thing because he would have been wondering why you sprinted to the car.

Dean doesn’t get the car three miles down the country lane, “Pull over Dean.”

“I thought we were going to go get food?” He teases.

“We will, but pull the damn car off first.” The car isn’t even on the shoulder of the gravel road before  you are pushing your pants down your legs, kicking your shoes off with them.

The Impala is barely in park and you are on top of Dean, kissing him fiercely. He’s surprised at first, but soon enough his hands grip your ass as you rock against him, holding his face between your hands, kissing him until you’re dizzy and your lungs scream for air.

You sit back, your ass accidently bumping into the horn as you try to undo his belt, Dean chuckling, “Easy there.”

You groan in frustration, giving him the space to undo his button and push his pants down to his thighs, his cock hard and throbbing against his stomach, “You think you’re the only one that’s been struggling today sweetheart?”

Before you can answer, he flips you on your back, pulling your knees over his shoulder.

“Jesus fucking Christ Dean.” You whine, your body trembling with anticipation.

He runs his tongue over your folds, “I’ve been thinking about this all damn day.”

Dean buries his face in  your pussy, sucking, licking, lapping, and fuck, it’s too much. Your back arches hard, pushing yourself up against his mouth. His tongue pushes flat against your clit and you scream, literally scream as every muscle in your body locks up from the sensation.

Immediately he pulls away, leaving the warm feeling stuck in your gut. Leaving you on edge, sweaty, needy and breathless.

“For fucks sake Dean.” You pant, voice strained.

“Fuck it,” he growls, shifting your knees apart, lining himself up and sliding fully inside you in a single movement.

As he bottoms out, you come undone, unable to contain it any longer, everything that built up over the last day and a half coming to a precipice. Your entire body goes stiff, toes curling, choked sobs escaping  from your throat as your vision goes completely black. The orgasm rips through you, bringing tears to the corners of your eyes.

Dean grunts, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Your core clenching hard around him is enough to drag him to his own end, spurting deep inside. It’s insanely quick, but mind blowing.

You wrap your arms around him, threading your fingers in his hair as he thrusts shallowly into you a final few times, and you tremble beneath him. Dean collapses, his weight welcome, grounding you in the front seat of the Impala, assuring you that he is here.

You play with the short strands as you both catch your breath, exhausted, but relaxed, blissful maybe, this small little high that you never wanted to come down from. Damn it feels good.

Dean chuckles low against your skin, kissing your neck before looking down at you.

“What?” You ask quietly.

“That’s definitely not what I had planned. But you…” He trails off.

“But I what?” You trace the lines on his face, and he turns his head, kissing your palm before he shakes his head, moving you so he is between you and the back of the seat. You try a different approach, “What did you have planned?”

He half laughs, “I called ahead yesterday morning and reserved another room. I was planning on maybe a few more times… you know, making this last a little longer.” His voice gets a little gruff at the end, and you instantly know it’s a pride thing. He had been planning this, out to the smallest detail, then let himself get carried away.

“Well, I think we can add this to the keepers list.” You press a kiss to his jawline.

“Really?” He sounds surprised.

“Yeah, I mean, don’t get me wrong, I was dying a little on the drive…But definitely worth it. I’d give it another shot.”

You both lay there for a moment, his hand running up and down your arm, making little nonsensical patterns when you realize something, “Oh and you know what?”

“Hmm?” He looks over at you.

You press your lips to his, whispering against them, “We still have that room.”

He chuckles, “Yeah we d-…”

He’s cut of by a sharp rapping on the window, his body instinctively covering yours, “Sir, ma’am…I’m going to need you to step out of the vehicle.”

You glance past him to see a police officer standing outside, “Oh shit.”


	4. Impala Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Dean start off this hunt in a holding cell and you are terrified that Sam will find out about your little deal

You sit quietly against the wall in one of the holding cells at the Sheriff’s Department. They hadn’t had time to book you or Dean yet. The town was too small, and there was way too much going down on the 4th of July weekend. Between the plethora of drunks, the town’s normal druggies, half the department out controlling crowds, and the murders that you and Dean were supposed to be working, you were the last thing on their mind right now.

Neither of you have spoken since the cop handcuffed you and put you in the back of the squad car. Dean nudges your knee with his until you look up and meet his eyes, he smiles reassuringly, “It’s alright sweetheart.”

“No it’s not,” you say quietly, even though the only two other people in this cell are passed out on the opposite wall.

He furrows his brow. You sigh, nervously glancing around, “Worst case, they fingerprint us and we are both supposed to be dead with a rap sheet a mile and a half long. That includes murder by the way.”

“But Sam can-”

“For being a freaky genius sometimes you are such a dumbass.” You snap, words coming out harsher than you intend, “So Sam comes and convinces them he’s our FBI supervisor-”

“And we walk-”

“And Sam finds out about us,” you whisper, cutting him off, feeling like you are on the edge of tears. You aren’t sure if it is from the embarrassment or the fear.

Dean watches you for a moment, sighing, “So what?”

“Dean- he can’t know about this, he won’t understand what we are doing.” You’re verging on frantic, his face becoming hard as you trip over your words.

“Okay,” he nods, “I’ll figure it out.”

“Really?”

“Of course sweetheart.” Dean half smiles before getting up, walking to the front of the cell, calling for the cop sitting at the desk, “Hey, can I get my phone call?”

Thirty minutes later the cop who arrested you is opening up the cell, “Alright Agents, you’re out.”

You close your eyes, relief spreading through you as Dean motions for you to walk in front of him, his hand finding the small of your back as you follow the officer to collect your things. Ten more minutes you are walking out into the light of early evening towards the Impala.

You’re quiet as you get in, trying to think of how to handle this. It was easy when there was no one you needed to define what you and Dean were doing to.  What were you? Fuck buddies? Friends with benefits? A way to blow off steam? Sam wouldn’t get that.

“Fuck, I’ve got twenty missed calls.” Dean grumbles as he turns onto the highway, dialing and holding his phone up to his ear, “Sam? What do you want?”

You hear Sam’s muffled voice on the other side, he sounds irritated.

“Dude, chill,” Dean slows the car, making the right onto a back road, “we just got caught up at a bar. You should have seen Y/N school these asshat’s at darts…We’ll be back in ten.”

He ends it and tosses the phone on the seat.

You stare at him in total shock, “You didn’t call him?”

Dean looks over, eyes meeting yours, “You said you didn’t want him to know.”

You don’t know what to say, “I didn’t think you wou-,” you stop, shaking your head, “How did you do it?”

He winks, “I’m awesome.”

You giggle, “I already knew that.”

Dean smiles, but it fades quickly, “There’s a bottle of whiskey in the back seat. You might want to take a few swigs if you want him to buy it.”

You rummage around, finding it, unscrewing the cap and taking a long drink before passing it to Dean, “Thank you.”

He takes a swig, turning into the motel lot and parking, “Anytime sweetheart.”

And the feeling his words bring in your chest is unexpected, it’s more than gratitude. You cover his hand with yours, reaching across the seat and kissing his cheek quickly. You don’t wait for his reaction, just slide back across the seat and get out, heading for the room, trying like hell to let that feeling go. Typical girl right? Read too much into everything, he probably thinks you’re crazy.

Sam is mildly pissed at you two, but you see the empty takeout container so you know he had given up on the two of you hours ago. Dean and you had disappeared to the bars a lot in the past, it was nothing new to him. He bitches a little but mostly gets you two caught up on the research he has been doing, about how the victims were distant cousins but that seems to be their only real connection.

Dean flips through the newspaper articles, “Yeah, but the pattern goes back fifty years or so. Ghost?”

You nod, “Vengeful spirit from the looks of this guy,” holding up the crime scene photo of the guy’s guts painting the wall.

“Grudge against the family?”

You shrug, “Most likely.”

Sam gets up and starts stacking papers, “Why don’t we get some sleep and split up in the morning? Go to the coroners and then check out the scene?”

“Sure,” you mumble, not really tired after the adrenaline rush from getting picked up by the cops. You start to get ready for bed, throwing your bag on the bed farthest from the window, grabbing your shorts and heading for the bathroom.

Once you get out of the shower, the lights are off and you are a little shocked to see Dean sitting on the other bed, and when his eyes meet yours, he gives you this apologetic little smile. Fuck, that’s right, it was his turn to get a bed to himself. The three of you rotated when rooms were scarce, Sam’s turn was last time, now it was Dean’s.

You grab a drink of water, setting it on the nightstand between the two of you, feeling his eyes on you the entire time. You pull up the sheets, lying on the very edge of the bed, which wasn’t hard, Sam took up most of it anyways. When your head hits the pillow, you look over, watching Dean watching you.

As his eyes move over you they are filled with an emotion you can’t quite place, his lips pursed together. Your brow furrows, confusion filling you as his olive eyes meet yours once again. You half smile, but it is forced, you would much rather be over there, feeling his arms around your body.  But he doesn’t return it, his face hardening as he rolls, facing the other way.

You would never have expected your heart to clench in your chest like that, how it made it hard to breathe.

_________

The hunt is hard but short, only two days. But it’s two days of no sleep and running on fumes. The ghost kicks your asses. You’re scraped up pretty good, Sam’s face is bloody, and Dean’s shoulder is a little tweaked. Overall it wasn’t that bad, on the other hand getting tossed around wasn’t ever that much fun. But the worst part? Dean’s barely spoken to you in the last forty eight, and you don’t understand why.

 **What’s the room number?**  You type quickly, hitting send, remembering that Dean had reserved that other room, hoping beyond hope he still had it.

As you flop onto the bed, peeling your jacket off, you see him check his phone, but stick it right back in his pocket without replying. Well fine, fuck you very much Dean Winchester.

“I’m going out for a couple drinks.” You announce to no one in particular as you grab a clean set of clothes and your small makeup bag, heading for the bathroom. It takes you all of ten minutes to get ready, it’s not perfect but presentable, enough for this run down town.

You walk out, heading for the door, and yeah, maybe you could have put in a little more effort, but you wished Dean would at least look at you as you slip on your boots. He doesn’t though, never looks up from cleaning his gun at the table.

You step out into the cool evening, ridiculing yourself. Stop overthinking it Y/N, he’s just tired Y/N, you’re reading too much into this girl. Everything was fine, it was just a hard hunt.

But you weren’t hunting two days ago when he turned his back towards you.

The bar is only a mile or so down the road, and it’s hopping. Well, hopping for a town of three thousand people and being on a back road. Music blasts, people play pool and darts. You make your way to the bar, pushing your way through the people, ordering a beer.

You turn, sipping the beer, leaning against the counter, taking in the room, the people.

“Looking for someone?” The guy standing next to you, leaning against the bar asks. He’s tallish, dark hair, really blue eyes.

You shake your head, hair falling into your face, “No one that’s going to be here.”

He chuckles, “His loss…I’m Matt.”

Normally you would have scurried away, gone and hid somewhere. You could fake it enough to hustle people, but strangers talking to you? Yeah, you pretty much sucked at that.

“Y/N,” you try to smile back, it feels forced but you see his face light up.

“Nice to meet you Y/N,” he pulls out the bar stool next to him, motioning you to sit. You hesitate, but what the hell else are you going to do without Dean here?

You talk to Matt for awhile, you know he’s a prick right away but you don’t really care. A few free drinks was worth your time, and at least you weren’t sitting here alone.

Somehow you end up playing pool with him, and you’re lining up a shot when he asks, “So who is he?”

“Hm?” You pocket a solid.

“The guy you said wasn’t going to show up.”

You shrug, walking around the table, looking for your next shot. Probably the corner pocket, “It doesn’t matter.”

“You’re hung up on him, it kinda puts a damper on tonight…” He teases, obviously thinking tonight was going a direction it wasn’t, “I wouldn’t make that shot if I were you.”

He’s right, it is a hard shot, but it is one that Dean taught you how to sink every single damn time, “I’m not hung up on anyone. It’s complicated…” You pocket it easily, “And I would ‘cause I’m awesome.”

“Complicated?”

“We work together.”

“I see…Are you ever going to give me a turn?” He laughs as you make your fourth in a row.

You smile, “Wasn’t planning on it.”

The subject drops. Matt does get a turn, but only one before you win and he insists on a rematch. Too bad for him that you weren’t going to let him win that one either.

You notice, but don’t say anything when he starts getting closer, starts touching you more and more.

You’re standing side by side at the bar when he goes for it, tipping his head and pressing his lips against yours. And you respond at first, and it feels nice, but there’s nothing there. There’s no spark, no pull in your gut, no heart racing because it isn’t him, it isn’t Dean.

You push him away, “I’m sorry, I can’t-”

Your sentence is cut off by Matt being pulled away, a broad body suddenly between the two of you, “Get away from her.”

“Easy man.” Matt puts up his hands, “we were just having a good time.”

“Back off.” Dean growls.

“Dean!” You’re ignored.

“Get lost man, go find another chick,” Matt shoves Dean a little.

You can’t grab Dean’s arm fast enough. He pulls back and punches him square in the jaw, Matt stumbling back. This isn’t going to end well. Matt rushes forward but has no chance, Dean grabs his shoulders, tossing him halfway across the room. The only thing that stops Dean from going after him again is the bartender yelling and slamming a bat off the bar, “Get the hell out of my bar!”

Matt wipes the blood off his cheek, staring down Dean. You don’t care, your heart is racing in your chest, you’ve never seen Dean this pissed at a human, sure at a monster or a demon, but never another person.

“C’mon Dean.” You grab his hand, pulling him with you towards the exit. At first he doesn’t move, but after a few tugs he follows close behind you.

As soon as the cold air hits your face you let go of his hand. His immediately moves to the small of your back but you shake him off, angry at him for acting like an ass.

“Are you alright sweetheart?”

You don’t answer, just cross your arms and stalk towards the motel.

“Y/N?” He jogs to keep up, grabbing your arm and pulling you to face him, “Are you okay?”

“No!” You throw up your hands, “What the hell was that?”

“What?” He looks confused, “That creep-”

“I can handle myself Dean!” You yell, “I’ve been handling creeps for years.”

“But-”

“But what?” You’re frustrated, pissed, upset, almost crying, “What gives you the right to act like that? I-can-handle-myself!”

“That guy was trying to-” Dean’s backpedaling now. An asshole in a bar he can deal with, but you pointing at him, yelling and pissed? He’s unsure.

“I was fine. So why did you do that?”

Dean rubs the back of his neck, “I was mad, okay? I saw him kiss you and…” he trails off, shaking his head.

It’s all so funny suddenly and it makes perfect sense. Dean not talking to you for days after the bed thing, now this? He’s jealous, maybe even insecure about this.

Dean Winchester insecure? No fucking way.

But here he is in front of you, his cheeks red, refusing to say a damn word. You reach out, lacing your finger through his, “C’mon.”

He’s confused, but he follows you, “Where we goin’?”

“You’ll see.” You spot the Impala in the parking lot, heading for it. You walk to the passenger’s side, getting in as he starts the car, engine roaring to life.

“Well I kinda need to know where we are going.”

You smile softly, “Just drive.”

“ ‘kay.” He mumbles, pulling out onto the road. At first he heads for the motel, letting off the gas until you shake your head. He revs the engine again, the Impala heading to where the streetlights no longer exist and through the windows you hear crickets and smell endless seas of grass.

“I think there’s a dirt road coming up,” you whisper. Dean slows down, taking the left, gravel crunching under the tires.

“Seriously Y/N, where are we going?”

“Just a little farther,” you look over at him as he shakes his head, clearly impatient, trying to figure this out. Truth be told you don’t know what you are doing out here, but it feels right somehow, like it’s your turn to be the sure one. It’s your turn to chose.

“You see that little field by the tree line? Pull off there.” You point. You have to give Dean credit, he doesn’t really question it, just follows your instructions with this small little smile playing at his lips.

He parks the car and cuts the engine, “So what now sweetheart?”

“Come with me.” You smile, opening the creaky door and crawling out.

Seconds later the driver’s door creaks open and Dean shuts it with a thump, leaning against the roof, watching you curiously, “What are we doing out here?”

“We are doing what we do…You got beer in the back, right?” You don’t wait for him to answer, reaching in and finding the green cooler, grabbing two beers before walking around and sitting on the hood, holding one out to him.

Dean shakes his head, but he’s got this little smile plastered on his face as he takes the beer and leans back against the car next to you. Dean and you did this every once in awhile, just drove out to the middle of nowhere, threw back a couple beers while staring up at the night sky, swapping old hunting stories.

It’s quiet for a bit, each of you taking long swigs of beer until you bump him with your knee, “So tonight, you wouldn’t believe what happened. I had some guy punch another guy in the face because of me.”

Dean half laughs, “Yeah, some dick got knocked on his ass.”

“I never said he was a dick.”

Dean takes another swig, “He was definitely a dick.”

“Fine he was kinda a dick.”

Dean sets his empty bottle on the ground, turning and standing between your knees, “And the guy who slugged him, he was pretty damn awesome, right?”

You roll your eyes, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Ouch.” Dean feigns hurt, his eyes wandering over your face, “Ruggedly handsome though?”

You bust out laughing, “I think more semi-sexy jackass comes to mind.”

“I’ll take it.” He leans in and presses his lips to yours, this soft gentle kiss that lets you know that he is over earlier, he’s calmed down. You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him back, you’d forgiven him the moment you had gotten into the car and told him to drive.

Dean groans low as you hook your legs around the back of his thighs, pulling him closer, “Isn’t this how we got arrested last time?”

You laugh, “Yeah but, I seem to remember it being a lot of fun….That is up until the point we were in handcuffs.”

Dean kisses your neck, mumbling against your skin as your breath quickens, “You’d like it if I put you in handcuffs.”

“Ha-…” you’re struggling to think past his mouth moving over your exposed skin, “Only if I get to do it to you too.”

Dean stands up straight, smirking, “Deal.”

“Hold on, really?”

He nods. “Hells yeah. Fucking hot.”

You laugh to cover up the nerves. It wasn’t so much you were nervous around Dean now, like you knew he liked this, that he liked what you two were doing. But you couldn’t help that tiny voice in your head that you wouldn’t live up to his expectations, his past experiences.

“Now,” Dean takes your hand, “as much as I’d like to fuck you on the hood of baby, it’s fucking cold out here and we have a back seat to break in.”

You can’t help the grimace, “I’m sure that back seat has been broke in plenty of times.”

“Not with you.” He whispers.

Right there, in the middle of some farm field in the middle of fucking nowhere, you die. You must, because your heart stops beating and you stop breathing. His deep green eyes hold yours in the moonlight, and you can’t find words, hell, you can’t even find air to fill your goddamn lungs.

“C’mon.” He tugs your hand gently. Fucking hell, how does he do that? How does it go from you’re dragging him out of a bar and out into the country, and now he’s got you under this damn spell. It’s ridiculous. He just makes it so freaking easy. Easy to talk to him, easy to be with him and it leaves you feeling comfortable, maybe even confident.

You nod, hopping down, pulling him with you. He opens the door, letting you slide across the leather, him right behind you. You turn around to say something, but you never get the chance, his hand immediately on your cheek, his lips pressed to yours in this bruising kiss as he pushes you back into the seat.

“Nope,”  you shake your head, breaking the kiss, shoving his shoulder so he sits back as you crawl onto his lap, “my rodeo tonight.”

Dean smirks, his hands resting on your ass as he winks “Well then ride ‘em cowgirl.”

You bust out laughing, entire body shaking,  “Oh my god- I fucking hate you so much ”

He smiles, “That was fucking funny.”

“That was fucking cheesy.”

“I don’t know, I think I should get you a hat,” he teases, “one of those big ones.”

“Shut the hell up.” You roll your eyes.

“Super fucking sexy. I think it’d go with some boots-.” He cackles, grabbing your wrist as you go to smack him in the shoulder.

And before you can get out a half witty retort his arm is around your waist, pulling you against his chest,  his mouth finding yours again, quieting you.

He makes everything fall away, makes it impossible to think about anything but him. The strong arms that hold you tight, those sinful lips that move against yours, those fucking muscled thighs you’re resting on, and his hardening cock under his jeans.

His hands fall away from you, and you stop, confused until he nods, encouraging you to go ahead.

You take a deep breath, hands shaking slightly as you reach between you, slipping your shirt over your head.

Dean’s eyes darken as he looks at your body and you can’t help but flush red, shaking harder, both from excitement and nerves. He doesn’t say anything, just traces your bare skin with his calloused fingertips, leaving goosebumps.

His hands slip behind your back, unhooking your bra, sliding it down your arms, your nipples hardening at the chilly air. He cups your breast, running his thumb over the bud, your back arching into his touch. Dean twists your nipple between his fingers, leaning forward and taking the other in his mouth, drawing a gasp from you.

“Dean,” you moan, tangling your fingers in his hair as he rolls your nipple with his tongue, sucking it between his teeth and drawing back slowly. You shudder, tugging on his hair hard, him growling low in response as you grind down on him.

“Fuck Y/N.” He bites between the inside of your breast, his fingers fumbling at your belt, shoving at your jeans. You help him, trying to get the damn denim off. You fall forward, face planting against his neck.

Dean laughs, and it trumps your embarrassment, you giggle, regaining your balance, only to be silenced by his lips finding yours, “Here sweetheart.”

He lifts you easily off his lap, letting you half stand as he pushes them down, finally getting the goddamn thing off with your panties.

“Better?” You ask, biting your bottom lip.

“Definitely.”

You chuckle, sliding back so you are kneeling on the floor, unbuttoning his pants. Dean lifts his hips, letting you jerk his pants and boxers down, his cock springing free against his stomach.

You take him in your hand, running your hand up and down his length, your thumb running over the tip. Dean slides down on the seat, the muscles of his hips and thighs strained, “F-fu-.”

But he never finishes, you taking his cock in your mouth, his head lulling back against the seat. You swirl your tongue around the tip, his hips thrusting upwards, “Jesus Y/N!’

His fingers tangle in your hair and you sink down, his cock heavy against your tongue as you take him as deep as you can without gagging, the tip hitting the back of your throat, your hand wrapping around the base. You bob your head, savoring the taste that is so purely Dean as precum leaks into your mouth. And god, it makes your wet, slick covering your inner thighs.

“Stop, stop, stop,” he cups your chin, pulling you off of him, but not before you suck in your cheeks, giving a satisfying pop as he drops from your mouth. He lifts you, hauling you up onto his lap again, straddling his thighs, “when I come, I want to be right here,” his hand covers your pussy, fingertips dipping into your entrance, making you whimper.

“Dean,” you whine, rolling your hips against his hand.

“Yeah sweetheart, like that.” He encourages, as you move your wet pussy against his hand, his fingers flexing, his first two sliding into you.

“F-fuck,” you hiss, grinding yourself on his hand as the sweat breaks out over your skin.

His fingers curl against your g-spot as you circle your hips, moaning obscenely as your body buzzes. You grip at his shirt, desperation overtaking you, gritting your teeth as you push his hand away, panting.

Dean’s confusion is evident. You smile, half high off of him, “When I come I want you buried inside of me.”

He smirks, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he nods, his hands on your hips as you reach between you, pumping him twice before lining him up and sinking down on his thick cock, your body shuddering as you hold off your orgasm.

You clench around him, pussy fluttering.

“Fuck sweetheart.” He growls.

You gasp, rolling your hips, his cock dragging against your walls. Your mouth hangs slack as you tear at his shirt, trying to shove it off, desperate to feel his skin as the windows fog. He fumbles, getting the black fabric over his head as quickly as he can.

Your hands find either side of his face, your lips moving against his, but it’s more breathing each other’s air, moaning into each other’s mouths than it is kissing. You lift yourself until he is almost out of you before slamming back down, your hips bouncing off his, the slap of wet skin against wet skin filling the small space.

Dean holds you tight, your chest pressed against his as you ride him, his cock filling you up again and again.

He growls, adjusting, grabbing your hips so hard you know it will bruise, pulling you down as he thrusts up, meeting your movements, your slick making a mess all over him.

You whimper, holding onto him as tight as you can, screaming his name, every nerve in your body on fire.

“God sweetheart, fuck, I’m gonna-fuck.” He presses his forehead against yours, struggling, his cock twitching.

“M-me too,” you stutter, wrapping your arms around his neck, desperately chasing your release, trying to bring him to his.

He thrusts hard, erratic and when his cock jumps you come undone, the warmth spreading throughout your body, every muscle clenching as he spurts inside you. His hips roll dragging both of your releases out, grunting your name against your skin.

You bury your face against his shoulder, biting him as your body trembles, little aftershocks catching you by surprise, leaving you a whimpering mess in his arms.

When you have the strength you lift your head only long enough to rest your forehead against his, your noses brushing against one another. His eyes search yours, still a little clouded over and unfocused as his lips press against yours once, then twice, and again for the hell of it.

“Here baby,” he whispers low, and you don’t miss it, how instead of calling you sweetheart he calls you baby. It’s different, but you like it, it feels right somehow. He lifts you gently off of him, wincing at the loss as he slides out of you. Your limbs tangle together, Dean leaning, grabbing a blanket off the floor and tossing it over you as he pulls you between him and the back of the seat.

He lays back, “This wasn’t exactly on the list.”

You chuckle, curling up against him, tucking yourself under the blanket, “I’m ninety-nine percent sure car sex was on there.”

Dean laughs, pushing his fingers through yours, playing with them, “I don’t know if I remember that one. I think you are adding stuff now.”

“Definitely on there. And if not, it will be by the next time you see it. And it will be specific, not just car sex, Impala sex.”

You feel the chuckle rumble through his chest, but he doesn’t say anything else, just continues to run his fingers through yours.

Your chest tightens a little, you’re nervous and scared about the idea that just popped into your head. But you know, you have known ever since the jail, especially since you had seen first hand how he reacted at the bar, “Hey Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“I know we said just sex but-…” you trail off, unsure how to put this.

“But what?” He readjusts so he can watch your face in the dim morning light.

“I think-,” you suck in a big breath, saying each word carefully, ”I think we should tell Sam about us.”


	5. Rough Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Dean figure out how to tell Sam. Later the two of you try something that Dean hasn’t really done

“You want to tell Sam?” He’s got that crease on his forehead, “I thought you didn’t want him to know.”

You smile, stretching your neck, kissing right below his ear, “But you do.”

“You’re okay with it?” He’s confused, “You’re sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “I’m sure.”

You’re not sure, not at all, but you kinda need to take the chance.

Dean pulls you up, pressing his lips against yours, kissing you deeply before breaking away.

You giggle, “I guess it will be easier too, we won’t have to come up with excuses for getting a different room.”

“And Sam won’t think I have a drinking problem.”

“Well,” you draw it out teasingly.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He pokes your ribs, making you squeal, “It’s called functioning alcoholism.”

“Stop it!” You plead as he keeps tickling you, burying his face against your neck, blowing a raspberry, “Please!”

“Alright,” he peppers kisses over your face, flopping back against the leather, “Do you want to get some sleep before we head back sweetheart?”

“Just for a little bit.” You yawn, curling up under his arm, settling against his chest.

Your eyes fall shut, his hand rubbing up and down your arm, the warmth radiating off of him comforting as you slip into unconsciousness.

______

“You still look tired,” his thumb rubs over your knuckles, your hand in his between you in the front seat of the Impala.

“I’m exhausted.”

“You’re welcome.” He winks and you can’t help but laugh.

“Smartass.”

It’s quiet for a moment, Dean squeezes your hand, “We don’t have to tell him yet if you don’t want to.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “Plus it’s my turn to share a bed with you so I’ve got time.”

All you can do is shake your head as you get out of the car, following him to the room. Sam looks up from the table, setting his coffee back down, “Oh look it’s almost -  nine in the morning.”

“Hell it’s still early,” you joke.

“Uh-huh,” Sam nods, trying not to laugh at the lame joke, “Well not that I care, but if you aren’t going to leave the car at least leave my stu-”

“Dean and I are dating.” You blurt out, not entirely sure that you said it. The room is quiet, absolutely silent.

“I just said that outloud, didn’t I?” You panic, looking over to Dean who has this look of complete shock on his face, “I-um, shit, fuck.”

Dean closes the distance between you, placing his hand reassuringly on the small of your back.

“I’m sorry.” You are in full freak out mode now, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he nods encouragingly, chuckling.

“It’s about damn time you two admitted it.” Sam laughs, shaking his head and going back to his newspaper like it’s no big deal, “No offense, neither of you are great at pretending, or very quiet for that matter.”

“Wha-?” You turn red, glancing up at Dean who is trying not to laugh.

He shrugs, “What? You’re not.”

You want to melt into the floor, you are going to die from embarrassment, “Um-I’m going to go for a walk.”

Turning, you stumble out the door. You only make it as far as the Impala before hearing Dean, “Y/N! Hold up.”

You don’t stop, not until his hand grabs yours, spinning you, “So you’re my girlfriend now?”

“I’m sorry, it’s all I could think of saying. I-I didn’t know what to say. Hey Sam, I’m fucking your brother?”

“It’s alright baby, I kinda like it.” His hands find either side of your face, holding you there as he leans in, pressing his lips against yours right in the middle of that damn parking lot.

“Hey!” Sam yells through the open door, “Why don’t you two get a room?”

You smile against his lips, “So does that make you my boyfriend?”

“We are definitely getting a room at the next motel.”

______

You don’t. Not at that one or the four after that. That’s a lie, you have your own room at the third one, but both of you are so sore, so exhausted, all you can do is pass out face down on the bed. A month and a half of demons chasing your asses, never getting a damn break, the three of you had to take turns sleeping, at least one of you always on watch.

But you guys get it done, just like you always do. Now you’re leaning against the window in the front of the Impala, struggling to keep your eyes open, “How much longer?”

“There’s signs for a Motel 6 at the next exit. Five miles.”

“ ‘kay.” You mumble.

“Hey Dean,” Sam says from the backseat, “I just found this thing-”

“I swear to god Sammy if you say you found another hunt,” Dean groans, “I’ll kill you.”

“No,” Sam laughs, “I just found out this author is doing a speech and a signing in a town over and was thinking we could crash here for a couple days.”

“I’m all for crashing a few days.” You yawn.

“Fine,” Dean concedes, and you feel him slow the car down for the exit, but you still can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. In the half mile from the exit to the motel, you fall asleep.

____

Your brain feels foggy, like you just went on the world’s longest bender and are finally sobering up. Groaning, you force your eyes open, the motel room dim, and you aren’t quite sure how you got here until you hear the soft snores behind you. Dean

You roll over slowly, but its hard, his legs tangled with yours, his one arm slung over you. He’s passed the fuck out, mouth slightly open. You watch him for a moment before burying your face against his chest, slipping back into unconsciousness.

It’s probably another couple hours or so before your body is ready to get up, but when you do Dean isn’t there. You look around the room, a little confused, but mostly just shocked that the clock reads 2:00PM.

The doorknob turns and you instinctively reach for the nightstand where you normally keep your gun, but it’s not there. Of course not, you don’t even remember getting here.

“Hey sleepyhead, ‘bout time you got up.” Dean smiles as he opens the door, pushing it open with his foot, coffees in one hand, bags in the other.

“Shit,” you struggle, jumping off the bed and rushing across to grab a couple bags off of him, suddenly aware that all you have on your lower half are your panties.

“I got it sweetheart.”

“I’m saving the coffee.” You tease.

“No thank you?”

You sink down onto the chair, winking at him, “I’m sure you will get plenty of thanks later.”

“Promise?” He rummages through the bag, handing you a burger.

“After food, and some TV and maybe a shower…Speaking of, where the hell are my pants?” You look around the room.

“Sweetheart, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but they stunk.”

“Well it wasn’t like we were ass deep in blood and guts yesterday or anything.” You mumble, taking a bite of the burger. Dear god, it’s amazing. You pull your legs up under you, reaching out and opening the bag, “You got fries, right?”

“Duh.” He smacks your hand away, grabbing a container and handing it to you.

And that’s how the afternoon goes. You and Dean being, well, you and Dean.

___

You’re coming out of the bathroom when you hear the opener for Breaking Bad, “New episode?”

“Nah, re-.” He stops talking as he looks up and see you, standing there, damp hair plastered everywhere, only wearing the motel towel, which let’s face it, never covers much.

Dean’s eyes wander over your body and you can feel yourself blushing under his gaze, immediately sinking into yourself. You’re never going to get used to this, to him.

Dean pushes himself off the bed, crossing the room, never taking his eyes off of you. He gets close, reaching out for you, hands wrapping around your elbows, “Why do you get so nervous?”

The question is blunt, straightforward, and you have to look away, not sure how to answer, “Because you’re you and…And I’m me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrug, shaking your head.

“Baby, I told you before and I will tell you again, you are fucking gorgeous.”

You let out a nervous laugh, “That’s not exactly what you said.”

He chuckles, “That’s right, I said smokin’ hot. Both are true.”

You can’t help but laugh, finally able to look up at his smiling face. He brushes your hair back, “So what’s up tonight…a little faceridding, some handcuffs?”

You roll your eyes, “De-…”

“Too kinky?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively, “Not kinky enough?”

“Um, no, I just-I,” fuck you can’t find the right words.

“Yeah sweetheart?” He hooks his finger under your chin.

“Can you pick one, for you?” You bite your lip, and if you weren’t nervous before you definitely were now.

“What?” His head moves back and forth slightly, his forehead creasing.

“Um-,” you struggle, “I just feel like everything up until this point has been, well, more for me.”

“Do you seriously think I’m not having fun? Is that-”

“No, no, no,” you cut him off, breaking eye contact, “I just, when we started doing this, we were going to try stuff. And I didn’t know if there was something that you wanted to do, or try, that you hadn’t before.”

“Way to put me on the spot sweetheart.”

“Sorry,” you reach forward, tugging on his t-shirt.

“Gimme a second,” he backs up, taking you with him, sitting down on the edge of the bed and pulling you onto his lap, the towel slipping lower. You tangle your fingers in his short hair on the back of his head, watching him think.

Eventually he sighs, “You’re gonna think this is dumb.”

“Probably,” you tease.

He rolls his eyes, worrying his bottom lip, “Rough sex?”

“You’ve never had rough sex?” That surprises the shit out of you.

“Yes, but,” he’s struggling.

“Tell me.” You put your hands on either side of his face.

“I always feel like I can’t let go, like I might hurt them, like they won’t tell me to stop.”

You nod, “Okay. Let’s do it.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” you’re sure about this, “you won’t hurt me. I know that.”

Dean grunts, flipping you underneath him, a surprised squeak escaping, “You’re sure? Like one hundred percent sure?”

“Yes Dean,” you tug at his shirt, pulling him down to kiss you.

“I want you to have a safe word.” He insists, hovering inches away.

“Dean you aren’t going to hurt me.” You scoff.

“Please Y/N?” There’s a worried undertone to his voice. You realize why,  this man who is so incredibly gentle to you kills people's’ worst nightmares. Those hands that drove you insane? They were strong enough to snap necks, choke the life out of things people could only dream of, break bones with no help. In all reality, Dean Winchester was dangerous, even if you knew he wasn’t a danger to you.

“Just keep it simple? Red-stop, green-good?” You suggest.

“Positive?” He asks one more time.

“God yes, just promise you will do what you want, that you will let yourself go? ‘Cause I trust you, alright?”

He sucks in a deep breath, “Alright.”

It’s quiet for a moment, your breaths coming in short little gasps of anticipation. Dean’s eyes snap from your body to your eyes, “Alright.”

He moves fucking fast, ripping the towel away as he stands, leaving you exposed and lying on the mattress. You automatically pull your legs up, feet sliding on the sheets as you press your thighs together, core throbbing at the concentration on his face, the way his eyes darken, his chest heaves.

“Legs apart sweetheart.” His voice is low, and god it makes you wetter.

You whine, pressing your legs together harder, trying to hold yourself together.

“Nope,” Dean growls, dragging you across the mattress, roughly pushing your knees apart, “I wanna see that pussy.”

You’re totally exposed to him, fingers grabbing at the sheets as your back arches on its own, your body craving any kind of contact with him. He licks his lips, drawing a mewl from yours as he unbuckles his belt, shoving his pants down and tearing his shirt off. The man is something to look at, but fuck if your body isn’t on fire and you can’t concentrate.

He let’s himself fall forward, his mouth working its way up your stomach, alternating between open mouthed kisses and nips that make you squirm. He sucks a mark over your ribs, just under your left breast, and you can’t help but arch into it. You hands snap up, going to tangle in his hair, but he smacks them away, growling and biting harder.

“Fuck,” you hiss.

He works over your breast, biting up your neck until his eyes are level with yours and you feel like you are going mad, but you are sane enough to see the hesitation present in his eyes. You put your hands on either side of his face, making damn sure he is paying attention, “Let go Dean, you aren’t going to hurt me, I’m not fragile.”

He doesn’t say a word, just nods before leaning down and kissing you fiercely, all teeth and tongue, the hand not supporting him palming your breast, his thumb rolling over your hardened bud before twisting it harshly.

Dean pulls away too soon, rocking back onto his knees, flattening his hand over your pussy, your whole body going rigid as he stands up. You don’t know how it’s possible but in the last five seconds you’ve gotten more turned on and needier than you ever have.

Sitting up, you move to get off the bed, setting your feet on the floor, standing chest to chest with him. You look up at him, his fingers tracing your face, and you know right there he isn’t going to do this unless you take the first step, he’s too nervous.

You let yourself fall to your knees with a soft thud, running your hands over his muscular thighs, able to hear the hiss of his breathing as you do. You lean forward, the tip of your tongue flicking over the head of his hard cock, eliciting a groan. You smile, unable to help yourself as you take him in your mouth, swirling your tongue before sinking down on him, repressing your gag reflex as your nose brushes the hairs at the base.

You can’t help it, you gag a little bit and Dean immediately tries to withdraw, but your hands fly up, holding him in place by his ass, taking him again, pushing him forward into it.

Looking up, you meet his eyes, see the way his neck is straining as you swallow around him.

“Fuck Y/N.” He grunts between his teeth.

You take the encouragement, moving back, guiding him again with your hands until he takes the hint. His hands tangle in your hair, pulling it away from your face and he starts to thrust on his own, the head of his cock hitting deep in your throat.

You let your hands fall away, gripping his thighs to keep your balance as his pace quickens and tears come to the corners of your eyes, spit drips from the corner of your mouth as you try to keep your jaw slack.

His cock pounds into your mouth over and over, and even though this is something you had never pictured yourself doing, the expression on Dean’s face, the primal grunts, the way he lets go, good God you are pretty sure you are dripping on the floor.

Every thrust, you try and keep your mouth open, keep your gag reflex at bay. You’ve never made sounds like this and they mix with the sloppy sounds of his cock sliding in your mouth.

Dean grunts low over and over, and you free up a hand, lightly playing with his balls, cupping them and squeezing slightly, or at least as much as you can manage with his increasingly erratic thrusts.

“Fuck,” he hisses, cock twitching, and you hold him forward, deep in your throat as his hot come spurts and coats your throat and he tugs on your hair. You swallow the best your can, drawing it out as he struggles to stay standing.

You withdraw slowly, giving him a few final licks as you stay on your knees, watch his chest heave while he tries to catch his breath. His eyes press shut, his jaw clenching, trying to regain some composure. But he gives up, his strong hands hauling you up, his mouth crashing against your and he kisses you until you think you are going to pass out.

You break away, gasping, but his mouth is immediately on your jaw and then your neck as he pushes you back. And you aren’t quite sure where you’re going until your ass hits the edge of the table. Dean doesn’t hesitate, sweeping his arm, everything falling to the floor as he lifts you up on it, pushing you to your back roughly, skin smacking off the wood top, your mouths not leaving each other for more than fractions of a second.

His chest and weight are pressed against you one second and gone the next, his hands pushing your legs as far apart as they will go, until the muscles of your thighs burn, “You’re this wet already baby?”

He’s talking more to himself than to you, but that doesn’t stop the needy moan you let out as he runs his fingertips over the lips of your pussy.

“Dean,” you whine.

He smirks as you try to press your thighs together around his hand, but he doesn’t let you, flattening his hand over your pussy, palm rubbing over your clit as he holds your legs apart. Dean flexes his finger, sliding his middle and ring finger into you, curling them against your g-spot, pressing firmly as his other hand flattens low on your stomach, holding you in place.

He holds still for a moment, the hard, absorbed expression falling away, “Green?”

“Definitely,” you nod frantically, half out of your mind with need.

Dean nods, eyes focusing on his fingers, the way they slide in and out slowly. He scissors them, making your hips jerk off the table, but he pushes you down harshly, making you take it.

“F-fuck,” you hiss out with a string of incoherent words as his fingers stiffen and press against your sweet spot, focusing there as he pumps faster and faster. You squirm under his hand, but you have nowhere to go, nowhere to move as he takes you higher. It makes you absolutely insane that you have nowhere to focus the energy, it makes the blood rush to your head and the pressure pool in your gut.

Every single muscle in your body is wound tight, strained. You don’t know what you are saying anymore, your fingers hold onto the sides of the table so hard that they feel like they are going to break.

“D-dean,” you stutter out, knowing how close you are, but scared to let yourself come. It’s too fucking much, it’s too damn intense.

“You look so hot sweetheart, that greedy pussy squeezing my fingers,” he growls, his hand sliding down and pressing on your mound as he continues to pound you with his fingers, “Come for me.”

The squelch sound of your wet pussy fills your ears, and oh god, you feel like you are going to explode.

You do.

You come undone around his fingers, pussy clenching hard as choked screams come out of your mouth. Tears stream from the corners of your eyes as you feel your juices shoot from your pussy, all over his arm. God, it almost hurts how hard it hits you, how your back arches off the table and slams back down as you thrash.

Dean’s mouth is immediately on you, sucking your juices, running his tongue over your entrance and clit as he pulls his fingers out, drawing this orgasm for all he can, your thighs tightening around his ears so hard you should be hurting him, but it doesn’t even slow him down.

He pushes your legs apart again, withdrawing, flipping you and if you weren’t a hunter you wouldn’t have gotten your hands up fast enough to stop you head from bouncing off the table top. Fuck it this hot.

You’re standing on your tippy-toes, body flat against the wood. You try and push yourself up but his hand is between your shoulder blades, pushing you right back down as his cock presses into your pussy, burying himself to the hilt in one quick movement. Your body shudders around him, pussy fluttering, still not quite over the last orgasm as he pulls back, just so he’s barely inside of you before slamming back in so hard you feel the table slide.

“Fuck Y/N,” he growls and his hand leaves your back long enough to slap your ass. You yelp, it doesn’t hurt but it surprises the hell out of you. You are ready the next time he does it, the sensation making you clench hard around his cock, eliciting a deep, guttural groan from him.

Dean’s hips move, his cock dragging along your front wall as he really starts to move, hard and fast thrusts that leave your breathless and clawing at the wood, screaming. He holds your hips, fingers digging into the flesh, but the legs of the table scratch across the floor with every thrust, adding to the million other sounds right now: the slap of skin against skin, the wet noise of your pussy around his cock, the growls falling from his lips, and the desperate moans coming from yours.

Fuck, you’re already close and you know he is too, this isn’t going to last much longer but you know you are going to be sore tomorrow. He fills you up again and again, this perfect rhythm of in and out that drives you wild, that makes every muscle in your body clench so hard your legs cramp, but you don’t care.

It’s there again, that pressure in your body as he pounds into you. And- “G-god.”

Your orgasm catches you by surprise, entire body vibrating and trembling, your legs shaking, pushing your ass back against him, and giving out as you squirt again. It catches Dean off guard too, pulling him to his own end, his arms wrapping around you as he lays over your back, hips jutting in small thrusts as he buries himself as far as possible inside of you.

You’re not sure you are aware anymore, not sure if you are even awake. Dean’s weight disappears for a second, but then your feet leave the floor and he’s carrying you against his chest, dropping you on the bed and collapsing beside you. Your bodies tangle together, and you aren’t sure where you end and he begins.

You think over what just happened, how much you enjoyed it, definitely more than you thought you would, you liked the way he hadn’t been gentle with you. Then you start to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Dean mumbles.

“I fucking squirted, twice, how ridiculous is that?” You scoff.

Dean chuckles, “I think you mean ridiculously hot.”

“No I don’t. It was like it was out of some freaking porno.” You shake your head, too comfortable in Dean’s arms and too tired to be embarrassed about it.

“Got news for you sweetheart. That was way fucking hotter than any porno. And you know what?”

“Hmm?”

“Now that I know I can get you to do it, this won’t be the last time.”

You don’t need to see him to know that cocky ass grin is plastered on his face.

It’s quiet for a little bit, and you can feel him tense up, “Thanks Y/N.”

You can’t help but giggle, “What?”

He shifts, “I don’t know…I guess for trusting me enough to let me let go a little.”

“Of course Dean. I trust you more than anyone,” you swallow, looking for the right words, “I don’t know either. It’s just that it’s easier, you know? With you, cause I know you. You were right the first time, we are good together.”

“I’m gonna upgrade that to great.” He laughs, and you realize this is his way of changing the direction of the conversation. To be honest, it is just fine by you, you aren’t sure you are ready to analyze what’s actually happening here yet either.

“Fine, we are pretty great.”


	6. Comfort Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake up to Dean in the middle of a nightmare. Takes place immediately after Part 5

You’re almost asleep when he untangles himself from you.

“Dean,” you mumble, holding onto his arm.

“It’s fine, baby, I’m coming right back,” his voice is low and deep, you let go, your arm falling back to the mattress, struggling to keep your eyes open as you watch him head into the bathroom.

You can’t fight it anymore as he half closes the door, the need to sleep so overpowering. You don’t know he’s done until the mattress dips beside you. His hand is on your thigh, gently trying to push them apart. You shake your head, not understanding, stringing together words that make no sense.

“Shh, shh, it’s alright sweetheart.” He comforts, pushing again, and this time you let your legs fall apart. A warm washcloth replaces his hand, and he takes his time cleaning you up, carefully avoiding your oversensitive clit until he’s satisfied and you hear the soft thump of the cloth being thrown in the room.

“C’mere.” He scoots down beside you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against him. You nuzzle against his neck, pressing your face there as you lose consciousness.

___

You’re not sure what wakes you up, at first you didn’t want to because the dream had been more than pleasant, it was you and Dean.

He’s twitching restlessly around you, muttering in his sleep, swearing under his breath, sweat across his brow. You’ve witnessed enough of these to know exactly what’s going on, a nightmare, one of the shitty side effects of hunting.

“Dean?” you whisper, voice still heavy with sleep, but his muscles just tighten as he fights against something.

“Dean!” you say louder, worried. His jaw is clenched and you can hear his teeth grinding.

You put your hands on either side of his face, “Dean! Wake up.”

His eyes snap open, air rushing out of his lungs as he looks around frantically before his eyes settle on yours, but he still breathes heavily.

“Dean, it’s alright, I’m right here,” your thumbs stroking his cheeks, the scruff rough under your skin.

He stares at you, eyes flitting over your face as he struggles to breathe, and every time he gets it semi under control for a moment, he falls back into almost hyperventilating.

“Shh,” you try to comfort him, pulling him close and he buries his face against your neck, taking you by surprise. You push away your shock, holding him, playing with the short hairs on the back of his head as he wraps his arms around you, squeezing so hard it almost hurts but you don’t care, it doesn’t matter right now.

When he calms down he pulls back a little, looking at you in the dim light for a moment before pressing his lips to yours, kissing you gently, “Sorry I woke you up, sweetheart.”

“It’s fine,” you try to reassure but he grimaces, “Dean, it’s okay.” You lean forward, kissing his cheek, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Nah,” he shakes his head.

You know to stay quiet, to let him take his time with it. It will take a couple of minutes and he will get there.

“Do you remember when that demon snatched you, and it took me and Sammy almost a week to find you?” He asks quietly.

You swallow hard, nodding, “How could I forget?” It had been the worst week ever, or at the very least, in the top three. This black eyed bitch had grabbed you when you went out to get some pizza for you and the boys, totally caught you off guard. She had tortured you for a week straight. What you had never told Dean, though, was she had been looking for information about him, digging around, trying to find his weak spot.

Dean clears his throat, “It was about when I found you on that damn floor. Y/N,” he pushes your hair away from your face, “I thought you were dead. The way you were bloody and all twisted up? I thought I lost you.”

“Unfortunately for you, I’m still around.” You tease, poking him.

But his expression makes your face fall, apparently it wasn’t something he wanted to joke about.

“You’re my best friend, sweetheart,” he struggles with the words, “I can’t lose you.”

“I know,” you smile softly, “I know, Dean.”

He sighs, he’s holding back something and you aren’t sure what, some emotion, some thought that you can’t quite read. He holds you close, brushing your hair back again, kissing you softly, his lips barely moving against yours. You can’t help the satisfied little moan as you lean into it, enjoying the way his lips feel as they move.

You fall into it, your eyes closing as you feel him, taste him, just get lost in everything that is Dean; it’s slow and careful. His huge hand runs up and down your ribs, gripping every once in awhile, usually right before he gasps for breath. You feel like you notice every tiny detail: when your tongue slides against his; how he moans and how his muscles tighten a little. How his eyelashes tickle your face when he presses his forehead against yours.

You run your hands over anything you can reach, the expanse of smooth and scarred skin stretched over muscle that gives a little under your touch. Dean pulls you closer, which you don’t think was even possible, until you can’t tell where you end and he begins; everything is tangled and its skin pressed against skin under the sheets of the motel.

The two of you kiss for a long time, long enough that you aren’t able to ignore his cock hardening against your thigh.

Dean pulls back a little, the tip of his nose brushing against yours, your breath mixing as you hold each other’s eyes. You can’t help the small smile that crosses your face, you kiss him chastely before holding onto him, adjusting under the covers, lifting your leg over his hip and wrapping around him.

The head of his cock rubs against your pussy and you can’t help the high pitched whimper that escapes your lips. Dean reaches between you, lining himself up, shifting his hips until he is fully seated inside your aching core. But then he stays perfectly still, the room so quiet you can heart your own heart racing, and are pretty sure you can hear his thumping.

He runs his fingers over your face, tracing every line, his calloused skin rough over your smooth cheeks. His eyes are so focused, so deep that it hurts your chest and it hitches, your pussy clenching at the same time. He groans, eyes rolling as they close and he presses his forehead against yours, his cock twitching.

Dean rolls his hips slowly, barely even moving, the even drag of his cock on your walls making you shake. You match his movements, but there isn’t much room between you. His lips find yours, kissing you; short little kisses that make your heart flutter and jump in your chest.

He growls, rolling you to your back, his weight settling on top of you, warm and welcome. His hips thrust, his face buried against your neck and you press yours against his. Your sweat mixes, his ragged breaths echoing in your ears.

“You’re so perfect, sweetheart.” He mumbles, and you feel like you are going to break, everything is crumbling and you don’t know what’s happening. You feel the tears at the corners of your eyes, and you try like hell to keep them at bay, to not let Dean see you like this, but it’s damn near impossible.

He kisses the tears away from your face as he keeps moving, this languid pace that leaves your skin burning and your stomach full of butterflies.

You want to tell him how you feel, how you’ve been feeling since that first time, but you can’t. This is just sex, that’s all it’s going to be, that’s what you both want. It doesn’t matter what you thought you were, that had been the deal, the deal the very first time.

“D-dean,” you stutter out his name, not entirely sure what you are going to say, but it doesn’t matter. His mouth immediately finds yours and he kisses you until you’re dizzy, and you can’t remember anyways. Hell, you can’t think of anything but him.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his jaw clenching. His right hand finds your left, his fingers lacing through yours.

You whimper and he grunts low, and somewhere in the mess of sweat and tears you find your release, Dean hitting his at the same time, unable to hold out any longer. As the warmth spreads throughout your body, you can feel his cock twitching and jumping while your pussy clenches and flutters around it.

It’s one of those where you lose track of time and space, all you know is what you feel, Dean lying over you, pinning you to the bed with his weight. It feels good, solid, like he’s keeping you grounded there while your brain is all different kinds of fuzzy as the blood rushes through it.

At some point he rolls away but keeps you in his arms, and you can’t help but wince and whine at the loss of him.

“Shh.” He breaths, pushing your sweat plastered hair away from your face.

Looking at him, watching his guarded eyes, you remember how you got to here.

“You don’t need to worry Dean,” you run your thumb over his cheek, “I got you around to protect me.”

“You don’t need protecting, baby.” He’s not wrong. When he had found you that time, the demon hadn’t been alive anymore. You had broken your own hand to escape, fought her off with the angel blade she had had on the table, but you hadn’t made it very far, the exhaustion and blood loss catching up to you.

Dean smiles softly, “But I always got your back. No matter what.”

He gets it, he gets everything, he gets you. He understands, he knows, well, not everything.

He doesn’t know that you are in love with him.


	7. Handcuffs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s time for your and the boy’s annual Vegas trip!

Your eyes flutter open, taking in the dim light. Dean’s still fast asleep and it takes some effort, but you wiggle out of the bed without waking him up. You find some clothes on the floor, pull the rest from your bag, slip on your boots without tying them and head out the door, staying as quiet as you possibly can.

You’re on the second floor, outside, and honestly since you haven’t left the room yet, you have no idea where Sam is even at. Luckily for you, the guy is a morning person and you see him heading down the stairs.

“Sam!”

He stops, looking up, spotting you and giving a small wave, letting you jog to catch up, “Please tell me you aren’t going out for a run?”

He laughs, shaking his head, walking side by side with you, “No, I was going to go get some coffee, there’s a shop a couple blocks away with decent wifi.” He lifts his laptop so you can see it. You haven’t had time to check, but the Motel 6 wasn’t exactly known for their stellar wifi service.

“Mind if I tag along for a little bit?”

“Not at all…You already sick of my brother?” He teases.

“No, I just-” you stop yourself, not sure what to say, just shoving your hands in your pockets and watching your feet as you walk.

“What’s wrong Y/N?” He asks quietly.

“Nothing,” you shake your head, “you know how I am, I just overthink shit.”

“That doesn’t mean what you’re thinking isn’t valid.” He stops as you do.

“Thanks Sam.” You look up and smile at him, he smiles back.

“Yeah, you know I’m always here if you need to talk,” he bumps your shoulder playfully, “just not about some stuff, okay?”

“Shut-up Sam.” You can’t help but blush, Sam leading up the block a little more and then holding a door open for you.

You guys find a table in the corner, order drinks and you people watch out the window, resting your chin on your hand as Sam types away on the laptop.

After a half hour or so your phone buzzes on the table. Dean’s name pops up

**-You want food?**

_**No**_ \- honestly you really aren’t all that hungry.

The reply comes quick-  **You sure? I’m only offering once.**

You can’t help but chuckle-  ** _Positive. Do you want coffee?_**

**-Hell yes**

_**Frappuccino, right?**_  You can’t help but tease.

**-I don’t even know what the fuck that is.**

_**-That’s what you are getting**_.

**-Don’t you do it.**

**_-One caramel frappuccino coming right up_ **

**-Y/N! Don’t mess around with my coffee**

**_-Calm down…I thought you liked it when I teased ;)_ **

**-Smartass**

_**-I’ll grab it on my way back** _

You set your phone down, shaking your head and when you look up, Sam is staring at you, smirking.

“Oh shut-up Sam.”

He puts his hands up, smile growing, “I didn’t say a damn thing.”

“You were thinking it.” You mumble, “Anyways, do you have another hunt yet or what?”

He shakes his head, “No, it is strangely quiet. Almost too quiet, which means next month we won’t have time to breathe.”

“True that.” You finish off your coffee, “Oh god, do you know what that means?”

Sam looks confused for a moment, then he realizes it is the middle of summer. There was one thing Dean wanted to do every summer. He sighs, rolling his eyes, “Vegas?”

“Vegas.” You nod.

____

“We’re goin’ to Vegas!” Dean announces excitedly when you hand him his coffee and tell him about the lack of hunts, “Time for the annual road trip.”

“Isn’t every day of our lives a road trip?”

“I thought you liked Vegas?” He looks concerned.

You smile, nodding, “I do. I promise.”

“Well you’re just bursting with excitement.”

“It’s twenty hours in the car.” You sigh, setting your duffle bag on the couch as he sits down on the edge of the bed. You sit back against the corner of the table, crossing your arms and meeting his eyes, the boyish excitement contagious and you can’t help but smile.

You roll your eyes, crossing the room. Dean immediately reaches for you, pulling you to straddle his lap. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, your brain going a little crazy as he presses his lips against your neck, “I’ve got an idea.”

“Hmm?” He mumbles, bright eyes meeting yours.

All of a sudden you’re nervous and scared, dammit, you hate when you do this, “I was thinking, you know-with the whole ‘what happens in Vegas’ thing-um…”

“What sweetheart?” He smiles, and it’s a little wicked because he has an idea of where this is going.

You can’t help but blush, he puts his hands on either side of your face, encouraging you.

You swallow hard, mustering up the courage, “That maybe in the spirit of that we could try maybe some more of the-uh- more risque stuff on the list?”

He chuckles, “You mean some more of the kinkier shit?”

You nod, “Yeah,” biting your bottom lip, “I don’t know, I just feel like some of it we probably couldn’t have done before… And if something ridiculous happens, it’s Vegas,” you shrug, trying to play it off cool. God, he probably thinks you’re an idiot.

“Hell yeah,” he sounds excited, “Do you still have it?”

Your brow furrows, “The list? Of course.” You crawl off his lap, going to your duffle, digging in the side pocket. It was folded neatly there, and no you haven’t looked at it at least a dozen time, psh.

You walk back, handing it to him, sitting beside him and resting your head on his shoulder. He scans the page, “We might have to make a supply run for some of these.”

“You’re telling me you don’t have this stuff shoved in a secret compartment in the Impala?” You joke.

“You wish sweetheart.” He winks, eyes still scanning the list. He flips it over and starts howling, “You actually wrote it.”

‘Car sex’ is crossed out and next to it in blue ink is ‘Impala Sex’, just like you said you would, “I told you it was going to be on the list the next time you saw it.”

“Dork,” he smiles, “So what were you thinking first?”

You play with your hands in your lap, “I don’t know.”

His finger hooks under your chin, pulling you to look, and he’s closer than you expect, his hose brushing against yours, “Yes you do.”

“Dean,” you don’t know what to say, you’re never going to get over this, these fucking nerves. Even though you’re comfortable with him, you still aren’t used to asking for what you want, and god, you want to try all of it, even some of the stuff you never thought you would, ”I-I…”

“How about,” he cuts himself off, pressing his lips to yours quickly, “we pick two to start, one each, and then we can keep going from there each night, alright?”

You nod, watching his face, feeling his breath fan over yours, “Okay. You pick first.”

“Okay, but we do your pick first…” he kisses you again before looking down at the list, then he smirks, “overstimulation.”

You breath catches in your throat at his cocky ass grin.

“Problem sweetheart?” His smile grows, and god you want to slap him, but you also want to fuck him. It’s this weird limbo.

But you glance down, seeing one thing on the list and it goes back to a conversation. You chuckle, “Fine. Handcuffs… on you.”

Your tongue darts over your bottom lip, Dean bites his, that grin going away, replaced with something much more primal. His hand snakes through your hair and his lips are all over yours.

He pulls away, breathing heavily, “Fuck, I’m not going to make it twenty hours.”

“And that’s just the drive,” you giggle, “you still gotta gamble for a little bit.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening…It’s not going to be twenty hours.”

______

Dean wasn’t wrong, it was closer to twenty-seven. The traffic was brutal and there was a ten car pile up on the highway. Dean tried to bypass it, then he had gotten lost, well not according to him, it was temporarily delayed.

By the time the ‘Welcome to Las Vegas’ Dean is pissy, Sam is annoyed and you are sick of hearing both of them bitch.

Dean picks The Mirage this year to stay at. Every year it is a different hotel near the strip, it’s not like you’re actually paying for it anyways, fake credit cards and all that jazz. That’s why when it is a ridiculous amount for two suites for a week, he doesn’t even hesitate, just smiles at the receptionist and gives her the card.

But as soon as he walks away from the front desk, he’s tense and on edge again. You can’t help it, your mind automatically blames it on you, it’s what you always do, even if it doesn’t make any sense. You follow half a step behind him, into the elevator and he hands you a key. Once it opens on your floor, Sam heads one way and the two of you head the other, not saying a word.

He slides the key in, holding the door open for you, and you hesitantly walk by. You’re almost uncomfortable in the room, everything against everything you’re used to; it’s too clean, too neat and doesn’t smell questionable.

Dean tosses his coat on the table, movements stiff as he unzips his duffle.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, so quiet you don’t even think he hears you except he stops dead in his tracks as he swings around.

“What did you just say?” His face is total disbelief.

“I-I’m sorry,” you say, crossing your arms in front of you.

He crosses the room quickly, his hands reaching out, gripping your elbows, “Why are you sorry?”

You can’t look him in the eyes, “I don’t know, because you’re mad?”

“Hey,” he pulls your chin up, his face soft and open now, “listen to me, I’m not mad, not at you, okay?””

“Okay.” You nod.

“It isn’t your fault sweetheart. You don’t apologize for me acting like a dick.” His words are firm.

“I just-I get,” you can’t find the right words.

“I know, okay?” He presses his lips to yours, “Don’t do that to yourself.”

“Okay,” you sigh, feeling better about it, “but sometimes I can’t help it.”

“I know, but I’m not going to let you feel like that if I can help it.” He smiles, turning and walking back towards the bag, towing you behind, “Just like I’m not going to let you out of your pick.”

He digs with his free hand, producing a pair of handcuffs, holding them towards you on one finger. You let go of his hand, worrying your bottom lips as you take them, feeling the weight of the cool metal in your hands.

“So how do you want me sweetheart?” And just like that, snap, any uncertainty falls away, that worrying in your gut gone. You don’t care how he does that, but you are so glad he can.

“Um,” you glance around, not sure. The bed would be the easiest, but as you open the door and look at the king size bed, there is no where to attach them or put them through, at least not that you can see, “I don’t know.”

Dean smirks, pulling you back with him into the main area, “Here.” He pulls out a chair, leaving it away from the table, “It’s your show tonight baby, tell me what you want.”

You swallow hard, mustering a little courage, “Take your clothes off.”

His eyes are bright, “Yes ma’am.”

You turn crimson at his tone, blushing furiously. Dean closes the distance between you, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you against his chest, leaning down, catching your lips with his, kissing you, encouraging you.

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles, pulling away, leaving you standing there, totally breathless as he starts to strip. And you stare, watching his every movement, watching as he reveals muscle and skin. When he notices he starts to slow down, lets you appreciate it as he unbuckles his belt, then undoes his pants, letting them fall down his legs. He hooks his fingers in his boxer briefs, and your heart skips a beat, your breath shuddering in anticipation. He slides them down, his half hard cock springing free, and you have to press your legs together at the sight.

“Sit.” You instruct.

Dean laughs, but he does, “You’re still overdressed.”

You walk around him, taking his big hands in yours and securing them with the cuffs, first one and then the other, “I’m not taking them off until you’re in these because you can’t help yourself.”

He smirks and glances up at you, “Yeah, well with the way you look naked, it’s hard to.”

“Whatever Winchester.” You kiss his bare shoulder.

“One of these days I’m gonna make you believe it.”

You step around in front of him, taking a deep breath, laughing uncomfortably, “It’s kinda weird having a captive audience.”

He chuckles at your lame joke, “Take your time sweetheart.”

You nod, biting your bottom lip as you start to slowly undress. Your top goes first, then your pants. Dean breathes heavier, his eyes darkening. You slip your panties down your legs, hearing the creak of the chair as he adjusts and as you unhook your bra the chair sounds like it is going to break as he flexes his shoulders, pulling against the cuffs.

“Fuck,” he growls, frustrated, his cock jumping.

You slowly close the space between you, crawling onto his lap, staring at him for a moment before he tilts his head, leaning, and you meet him halfway, kissing him. You tangle your fingers in his short hair, pressing your lips against his, tongues sliding against one another. Every muscle in his body strains, trying to get close to you.

You break away, gasping, then pressing your lips all over his face, trailing them down his neck, nipping at his collarbone, your fingers running over his bare chest. Dean grunts and moans, his thighs shaking underneath you, as he repeats your name over and over again.

You stop, sitting back. His eyes are dark, focused, his lips are parted and he is panting. You know he wants to touch you, feel you, he isn’t used to this, not being able to press his fingers into your skin.

Pressing your feet to the floor, you step back.

“Y/N?” He growls, but it is airy, barely any control.

“What?” You smile innocently, letting yourself fall to your knees in between his, resting your arms on his thick thighs.

“You’re going to kill me.”

You giggle, taking his cock in your hand, pumping up his length, “No I won’t…Minor heart attack, maybe.”

He doesn’t say another word and when you glance up, he is biting hard on his bottom lip, his chest heaving. Dammit, it makes you wet, your inner thighs slick. You can’t believe he gets this turned on by this, by you.

You run your tongue up the vein on the underside, your thumb circling the tip, smearing the precum. Dean’s feet dig into the floor and the chair’s front legs come off the ground. Your heart jumps into your throat, scared that he might tip back, grabbing his his thighs and pushing down until he makes himself relax.

He breaks at your exasperated glare, grinning, “Sorry.”

You can’t help but smile back, winking, “Oh you will be Winchester.”

Dean doesn’t get a chance to reply, you take him in your mouth, swirling the tip with your tongue, hollowing your cheeks, “Fuck Y/N!”

You take the encouragement, leaning forward, taking him deep in your mouth until he hits the back of your throat, sinking down. The chair rocks and groans with Dean’s grunts and growls. You open your throat, trying to keep your gag reflex at bay as the short hairs brush against your nose, but you can’t, choking a little bit, throat and mouth clamping slightly, making his whole body thrust towards you.

“Jesus fucking Christ Y/N.”

You bob up and down, taking him as deep as you can and then letting him almost fall from your mouth, your tongue working at his cock. When it begins to pulse, you wrap your hand around the base, removing your mouth, planting open mouthed kisses along it while Dean stutters out words you don’t understand between labored breaths.

You look up at him through your lashes as you kiss the tops of his thighs, giving him a moment to come down a little, regain some control. If you didn’t, this would be over a lot sooner than you wanted it to be.

You kiss, lick and nip your way up his thighs, to his hips and across his stomach, working slowly up his body.

“Y/N,” he whines, his entire body shaking. His mouth is open, panting, chest and arms tight, pulling against the cuffs.

“Shh, easy,” you whisper, straddling his lap, his hard cock trapped between your bodies as you rock slowly, your lips finding his. He pushes against you with what little slack he has, his tongue sliding against yours, his mouth moving needily against your own.

You half stand, breaking away, he’s watching your face and lips so intently his eyes almost cross. Balancing yourself, hands flat on his chest, you press your lips to his forehead before reaching between you, pumping him a few times before lining his cock up with your aching pussy and slowly sinking down on him.

Dean’s head lolls back, his teeth clenched, air hissing past them as he feels your pussy adjust to him. You run your tongue over his throat, finding a spot to place an open mouthed kiss, then making your way up to his jaw.

His head tilts back to you, forehead resting against yours, his hot breath fanning over your face. Your eyes search each other’s, this desperate, primal need growing between you. Your arms wrap around his shoulders as you begin to rock your hips slowly, just barely dragging his thick cock in and out. Dean swallows hard, taking what you are willing to give him.

Your motion changes, your hips circling, then lifting off of him and pushing back down, alternating between grinding and fucking yourself on him, the drag of it driving you to insanity. He grunts, feet planting on the floor and thrusting himself up into you as you cling to him.

You could get lost in this, hell Dean is getting lost in this. His eyes are wild, desperate while every muscle in his body tenses, trying to break free. You have no idea why, but seeing him like this, seeing him so out of control just fucks you up.

Goddammit, he’s close, his cock twitching inside you as your body slides against his.  

“Come for me Dean,” you say low in his ear, and that’s all it takes, he falls apart, jerking up into you as his head falls, forehead resting on your shoulder. And god, the sounds he makes? It’s straight up fucking sinful, pulling you into oblivion.

You clench around him as he trembles under you. Back arching hard, your nails rake over his skin as your vision goes black, “D-dean!”

Your body continues to fuck yourself on him, drawing out both your orgasms until you’re exhausted, hanging onto him, brain fuzzy. He nuzzles against your neck until you turn your face, your lips finding his in this lazy kiss.

When you finally pull away, it’s the last thing you want to do, but you know by now his shoulders have to be killing him. You pull a bobby pin from your hair, free strands falling haphazardly across your face.

Dena laughs, “I got keys sweetheart.”

You press a quick kiss to his lips, wincing as you stand up, his soft cock sliding from your pussy, “I know, but it will take me longer to find them in that damn bag than it will take me to pick it.”

He chuckles low, holding still as you walk behind him, crouching and picking one cuff, then the other, the metal falling to the floor.

“There you g-,” but the words are lost on your lips as the chair gets slung halfway across the room, Dean spinning and lifting you up. Your legs wrap around his hips as he walks forward, your back crashing against the wall with a thud as his mouth finds your neck.

“Never-fucking-again.” he growls between kisses as his hands grip your body.

“Wha-?” You’re confused.

“I’m never not getting to touch you again, that was fucking brutal…” He pulls back, adjusting you as he makes his way to the bedroom, kicking the door open, stepping forward and letting you fall onto the bed.

You get it, Dean likes to touch you, to feel you under his fingers. He likes your reactions and he isn’t used to not being able to draw them out of you.

“So now,” he pushes your knees apart roughly, “it’s my turn.”

“I thought we were going to do one a night?” You tease.

“Fuck that.”


	8. Overstimulation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You tied Dean up, now it is time for a little fun payback ;)

“Fuck that,” he growls, his eyes raking over your body, intent on you. You try to sit up, but Dean grabs your ankle, jerking you so you fall back against the smooth sheets, “just give me a minute sweetheart.”

You’re not sure what he means but he turns and disappears from the room. He’s moving around, rummaging through his bag, digging through the mini bar. You’re curious, but you stay put, scooting up the bed, sitting back against the headboard and the pillows. You pull your knees to your chest, resting your chin there.

Dean comes rushing back in, and even though he is hurrying, he’s calmer somehow, back in control.  His hands full of stuff, which makes you laugh, “You came prepared.”

He starts setting stuff on the end of the bed: a small vibrator, a couple of ties, a cup of ice. He looks up at you, “I’ve been looking forward to this one for a while sweetheart.”

You smile, rocking forward, kneeling, shuffling towards him. You reach him, his arms wrapping around you and pulling your naked body against his bare chest. His lips find yours, kissing you slowly, making your heart race in your chest.

You break away suddenly, “But what are the ties for?”

He cocks his head, amused, “Really?”

You roll your eyes, “Well I know what they are for, but why?”

Dean takes a deep breath, his cheeks flushing a little, hands running up and down your back, “You’re distracting sometimes, and I can’t concentrate.”

“So? I like distracted you,” you giggle, taking his chin between your fingers and kissing him again.

“I want to do this right.” He says, his eyes holding yours. That’s one thing about Dean Winchester, the man took pride in what he did. When he sets his mind to something, it’s done beyond perfect.

“Go ahead. Though I’m not sure how you’re gonna do it.”

He kisses you, guiding you back up the bed, “Have a little faith. I’m smarter than I look…Lay back.”

You do, letting your body relax, letting him pull your arms above your head. He ties both your hands together, kneeling by your head, reaching between the headboard and the mattress. He’s going to tie it to the frame.

Wiggling a little bit, you watch his concentrated face, “I think this is some tit for tat thing.”

Dean laughs, smirking, “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He backs up and you test it. It doesn’t hurt, but you aren’t thrilled with not being able to touch him, especially since you are still wound up from earlier.

Dean stands at the end of the bed, watching you and you blush under his gaze, your legs instinctively pressing together. Finally his olive eyes meet yours and he is completely focused, face blank, “Same safe words as last time?”

“Dean-” you go to protest, but honestly you don’t know what to expect, so it is probably a good idea, “Yes.”

The word is barely out of your mouth and he dives on the bed, pulling your legs apart, throwing them over his shoulders. You squeak, not expecting it as he buries his face against your pussy.

Your neck locks back, arms pulling hard against the damn tie, “F-fuck.”

Dean growls, the vibrations on your clit tingling up your spine, making your pussy clench around nothing. He holds you tighter, hands splayed over your stomach, holding you still as he sucks on your clit, then lets his teeth scrape just barely against it.

You can’t help the small scream, your thighs trying to tighten around him, but he holds them apart as he moves his head back and forth, sloppy sounds filling the room, mixing with your moans. His tongue slips past your entrance and he alternates between that and swirling it around your clit.

Your hands wrap around the tie, holding it tightly as he pushes you over the edge, yelling his name, your body trembling, hips rolling, pushing yourself against his face. White light behind your eyelids make your brain go blank and you can’t think of anything but him.

He loses himself for a moment, licking your juices before pulling away as you start to come down, your skin still buzzing. You hear it, your mind not putting two and two together right away as he clicks on the vibrator, the noise making your core ache. God you want him.

“Dean.” You whine, pleading for him.

“Just relax baby.” He mumbles, his fingers playing at the lips of your pussy as the buzz just becomes background noise.  His fingertips part you, barely tracing around your clit, your hips jerking up and trying to find him. He adjusts you, lifting your ass so it rest just barely on his knees, tipping you up so he has a clear view of your pussy.

He plunges two fingers into you, crooking them against your g-spot but holding them still. Instinctively, you squeeze around them and roll your hips. God his face as he watches you, it’s just wonder and awe, like he can’t believe he’s here with you.

“Dean?” You swallow, pulling at the tie, dammit you just want to touch him. His cock is hard, resting against your inner thigh, twitching as your pussy flutters.

“Fuck you’re beautiful baby.”

You can’t stop the whimper, your chest rising unevenly as your breath hitches. That’s what snaps Dean out of his little trance, “Remember the safe word sweetheart.”

You don’t get the chance to ask why, his fingers thrusting, curling into your g-spot. Your mouth falls open, head crashing back against the pillows as you make sounds that are almost pornographic. And for the first time, you don’t give a shit, because this is Dean and you.

When he presses the vibrator to your clit, your whole body bounces off the bed, it’s all Dean can do to keep you still, his fingers leaving your pussy while he re-positions you, holding you. He grips your thigh tightly as you squirm, his other hand moving the vibrator around your clit, never touching it straight on. Sweat breaks out across your body as you yell his name, mixed with a string of curses.

“G-god,” you twist, trying to press your legs together but Dean pushes you roughly, keeping you open to him. Fuck, it feels like little jolts of electricity are running through your body, you can’t catch your breath.

Your hands ball into fists, your nails digging into the palms as he pushes his fingers back in you, crooking them.

“Dean, D-…” you choke on your own words as he presses the vibrator directly against your clit, “fuck, fuck, fu-.”

Your body convulses, vision going almost black as the orgasm rushes through you, every muscle in your body going stiff, feet slipping on the sheets. You choke, struggling to breathe as his fingers continue to thrust, not allowing you to come down.

God, those freaking fingers, the vibrator, you are going to go crazy. Part of you is terrified, you haven’t stopped coming as he pushes you into another, fingers pressing hard against your g-spot, the vibrator falling to the bed as your juices spill all over his thighs, gushing out of your as you scream and cry, tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

“Dean! I c-can’t, Fuck.” You aren’t making any sense as you stretch and squirm, your entire body working of its own, trying to pull your oversensitive clit away from his fingertips that are brushing over it, every little touch making sparks appear in your vision, sending jolts of electricity through your entire body.

“Fuck sweetheart,” he growls, and somewhere in your fuzzy brain you recognize it, searching for him. He’s straddling your hips, holding you to the mattress,  his cock resting on your lower stomach. His eyes are dark, and he looks as lost as you. He’s watching your face and he brings his fingers to his lips, sucking them off first one and then the other, “you taste so fucking good.”

You buck involuntarily, fighting underneath him, but for what, you have no idea. You’re restless, you fucking want him, want to feel him inside you but four orgasms in less than an hour? You are going to fall apart if you come again, but he doesn’t look anywhere near done.

You can’t stop the needy whine that escapes, that makes his cock bounce, “You wanna taste yourself baby?”

It’s not something you’ve ever really thought about doing before, but it doesn’t stop you from nodding frantically and getting wetter, if that is even possible at this point.

Dean reaches around, his thick fingers sliding into your pussy, your thighs tightening around it, your arms pulling hard on the tie, the frame of the bed creaking, making him suck in a huge breath.

He bring his fingers to your lips, “Suck,” he growls low. You latch your lips around his fingers. His mouth falls open, eyes intent on you as you swirl your tongue around the tips. He groans, driving you on, you hollow your cheeks, sucking, tasting the sweet saltiness of yourself. And you don’t mind it, but god the fucking sounds he makes, it is downright sinful and maddening. You swear you could come from listening to him, you wonder if you could.

You close your eyes, focusing on his fingers, alternating between sucking and swirling. His cock jumps on your stomach, Dean groaning, “Fuck Y/N.”

He pulls his fingers away, them popping from your mouth. Your eyes flutter open, him shifting to grab something behind him. The rattle of the ice in the glass reaches your ears, and you practically jump from the anticipation.

Dean sets the glass by your side, his one hand toying at your breast, thumb rolling over your nipple before pinching it between his fingers, tugging enough to make you whimper while his other hand fishes through the glass.

“D-dean,” you stutter, watching, your chest rising and falling quickly, unevenly.

He doesn’t answer, just takes the melting cube, setting it in the valley of your breasts. It’s cold, but not uncomfortable cold, just contrasting with your hot skin, making your nerve ending feel like they are standing on edge, making everything shift, be more intense.

Dean scoots back as the ice slowly melts, settling himself between your legs, resting his weight on his knees. His mouth moves over your hip bone, sucking a dark mark there that leaves you shaking before working his way up your body, taking the ice in his mouth when he reaches it, slurping the melted water off your skin.

You can’t watch him anymore, your head falling back, eyes closing, feeling his cool breath blow over your breast. And you don’t  have time to think before his mouth covers it, the ice making your spine tingle and your back arch off the bed, pressing yourself against him as you call out.

It’s fucking maddening as he works you over. You are pulling so hard on the tie that you can feel it burning your skin and you don’t care, somewhere in your crazy brain you think you can break it. And the burn is in direct contrast with that ice, the way he swirls it around your nipple, let’s it slide across your skin before sucking it back into his mouth, god, your needy core is clenching, soaked, leaving a mess as your hips buck, desperate for any kind of friction. But he takes his time, and he isn’t going to be satisfied until you come like this.

He lets what’s left of the cube go, letting it slip over your skin as he grabs another, going to your other breast, giving it the same treatment. Fuck, it feels like there is some sort of wire between there and your pussy, because every time you feel the cold contact contrast with his warm tongue, you can feel the jolt between your thighs.

“Dean, I’m gonna come.” You groan in a voice you don’t recognize, this animalistic tone that is in line with how you feel right now: primal and needy.

His teeth brush over the sensitive bud as his hips pin you to the bed and that’s all you need. It hits you like a damn train, and you are past the point of having any shame. You cry out for him, tears trailing down your face as your body thrashes and your hips buck with what little room they have.

“Fu-fuck, oh God.” You scream and it mixes with his name, and you are vaguely aware of him grunting and his hips jutting against yours erratically, but you’re so caught up, so overwhelmed that it doesn’t make sense in your orgasm-riddled brain.

“God Dean, please,” you beg, crying, legit tears running down your cheeks, “please fuck me, please I need it, please.”

You don’t expect it, his lips suddenly against yours, his hand cupping your cheek. His breath fans across your skin, “It’s going to have to wait now sweetheart.”

He moves away, shifting to the side, looking between you and your eyes follow his gaze.

“Oh god.” You start to tremble at the sight, his come all over your mound and lower stomach.

“Jesus sweetheart,”  glancing back to your face, he almost looks embarrassed,  “the way you look, those fucking sounds, I couldn’t help myself.”

“F-fuck,” you breath, having to press your thighs together, you swear you’re going to come, and at this point, probably just about anything could make you. Everything feels like it is on fire, your body has this constant buzz to it, and it is just on the right side of painful and terrifying. Everything is too much, and not enough.

You squirming underneath him seems to get him past his initial embarrassment. Grabbing one of the throw pillows, he wipes away the mess, tossing it somewhere in the oversized room. He settles down between your legs, grabbing the glass before wrapping his arms around your thighs.

Dean dips his fingers in the glass again, grabbing one of the few cubes left, “Still green?”

You nod frantically, god you must look like a damn bobble head but you don’t trust yourself to speak.

He smirks, popping the ice in his mouth, winking, “You might want to hold onto something.”

You wanna tell him that would be kinda hard considering your current position, but you don’t get the chance. His mouth covers your clit, and oh fuck you can’t do anything, your mind goes blank as every muscle in your body clenches.

The cool ice mixing with his tongue makes it feel like you stuck your finger in an outlet, and you jump and pull against him, your fingers wrapping through the tie and ripping at it. You scream and cry out, so afraid to come, but at this point you don’t have a choice and you can feel your orgasm barring down.

Dean opens his mouth, letting the ice fall from your clit to your entrance before slurping it back up again and swirling it around your sensitive nub. And if Dean wasn’t holding you in place right now, with the way you are trying to buck, you would have broken his damn nose.

Your thighs tighten around his ears, and you should be hurting him, but it drives him on. He slides the small cube into your slit, his tongue following, and holy hell, fireworks are going off inside you and everything explodes.

You twist to the side, Dean having to grab you roughly to keep you in place and there are going to be bruises in the morning. Your back arches and you just can’t, can’t breathe, can’t see, and the only two things you can feel is Dean and your pussy clenching around his tongue.  It’s too much, it’s too fucking much.

Your entire body shakes in time with each wave of the orgasm, you’ve never had one this long, and actually you are fairly sure one had just pushed you into another. So by the time you have any grasp on reality, Dean is hovering above you, kissing your neck as you tremble.

“Dean.” You are wild and frantic, and he seems to sense that, his touches gentle and for the first time tonight, without purpose, just like he can’t touch you enough. But for you, any touch is enough to make you thrash and whine.

“You still with me sweetheart?”

“Y-yes,” you choke.

He presses his lips to yours, moving his hips, dragging his hard cock through your slick folds. He reaches between you, the head of his cock sliding into your aching core, sliding to the base in one fluid movement. For you, the stretch, the feeling of his hard cock filling you up, pushes you over the edge with a yelp.

It’s a quick little orgasm that makes your brain hurt, makes you feel like you are going out of your damn mind. It makes your heart race at a whole new level.

“Untie me, please Dean, fucking untie me.” You don’t have a semblance of control anymore, you need to fucking touch him.

He reaches above you immediately, somehow  undoing the knot with you pulling on it. The moment your hands are free, your arms wrap around his neck, pulling his lips against yours.

It doesn’t matter that you are shaking, writhing, crying mess underneath him, all that matters is Dean. He consumes you.

He moves hesitantly, barely inching out and then back in as your fingers touch everything you can reach, and no amount will ever be enough for the time you were kept from doing so.

His hips jerk and your lips fall away from his as you feel his cock drag against your walls. Dean presses his forehead against yours, sucking in short gasps as you flutter around him, unable to control the pulsating throb of your pussy.

Dean growls, pushing faster, biting at your shoulder as you whimper, you can’t even form a coherent word anymore. You claw at his shoulders as he drags over your g-spot.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you as close as possible as he thrusts, his cock pounding in and out, driving you crazy. The tears stream freely now, and you don’t know why, maybe it is your body’s confusion, maybe it is how he feels so damn perfect.

“One more time for me sweetheart,” he growls in your ear.

“Fuck Dean. I can’t, I can’t,” you repeat over and over even though you know it is a losing battle.

He cups your face, making you look at him, “I’m right here baby, you’re doing so good.”

And his even thrusts would have gotten you there eventually, but it’s his eyes, the sureness, the encouragement, the want there.  It’s how his sole focus is you.

You cling to him, arms and legs wrapping around his body as you yell his name, burying your face in his neck. His one arm wraps around you, and somewhere in the mess of you shaking and trembling, of your hips rolling against his, he finds his release, cock twitching and spilling inside you.

He collapses on you, and normally you would have loved it, but his weight on your stomach and between your legs is verging on painful. You shove his shoulder weakly, and it takes him a moment, but he realizes what you want, rolling to his side, but still staying close to you.

He brushes your hair away from your face, his fingertips light against your skin, even that makes your body shudder at this point and it’s almost too much.

“Hey, we should get you cleaned up sweetheart.”

“Dean,” you can barely recognize your own voice, breath still coming in short gasps. You are struggling to calm yourself down, “I can’t.”

“Shower?” He asks, face contorting, concerned.

You know you are a mess, your thighs slick with his come and yours, everything covered in sweat, but you don’t care. You shake your head, “Later, just a quick nap.”

You’re almost in pain at this point, everything still on edge, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. The way he made you feel was beyond words.

“Baby, are you alright?” He takes his hands away, eyes worrying, “Talk to me.”

“I am more than fine,” you laugh, your fingers tracing the lines on his face, “but I need a minute.”

He grimaces a little bit, and you don’t know why, but he feels guilty, “Don’t do that Dean. I didn’t tell you to stop.”

“I went a little crazy.”

“And I loved every fucking second of it.”

He smiles, still unsure, “Really?”

You nod, yawning,  the night catching up with you,  “Yeah…But don’t tie me up again for awhile. I agree with you on that one, I like being able to touch you. It drove me crazy that I couldn’t.”

“Deal.” He leans, pressing his lips against yours but being careful not to touch anywhere but your sides, pulling your body against his. It’s so slow, so gentle, and you are so exhausted that at some point your fuzzy brain loses consciousness.

At least you are pretty sure you do. You must, because you have to be dreaming.

You have to be dreaming when you hear him whisper against your skin, “You don’t know this sweetheart, but I love you.”

You’re dreaming, so it doesn’t matter when you breathe, “I love you too.”

* * *


	9. Face Riding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is acting a little off and you confront him

You wake up slowly, your eyelashes tickling Dean’s skin you are pressed so close to him. You’re the first one up, he’s still snoring lightly, twitching every once in awhile as he dreams. Somehow you manage to wiggle out of his grasp without waking him, finding one of his shirts sitting on the dresser and slipping it over your head as you move to the other room.

In the kitchenette you start the small coffee pot, your mind going over and over what happened last night, did he actually say that? Or did you imagine it? You don’t know. What you do know was is when you think about it, it makes your heart swell and butterflies flutter in your stomach.

You lean back against the counter, arms crossed, caught up in your own little world.

“What are you smilin’ about?” Dean’s voice grabs your attention, he’s leaning against the table, only his boxers on, watching you.

You shake your head, unable to stop your smile from growing, “What are you doing up?”

“Funny thing,” he grumbles, pushing off the table and walking towards you, “I was looking for my damn shirt.”

You laugh low, “Well I guess you found it.”

He stands right in front of you, toying with the hem, “What if I want it back?”

You slide your fingers into the top of his boxers, pulling him against you, “Too bad.”

He leans down, hand cupping your cheek as his lips find yours, pressing against them gently, barely touching them. You stand on your tip toes, wrapping your arms around his waist, holding him close as you kiss him, nipping at his bottom lip.

Dean reaches down, grabbing behind your thighs and lifting you onto the counter, the cool surface making goosebumps pop up all over your skin. You hook your legs around him, kissing him, making out like a couple of horny teenagers.

He starts kissing down your neck, tickling you with his scruff and you laugh, “Alright, alright, enough…I need a shower.”

You push him back a little so you can hop down and his face falls a little, “Am I invited?”

You don’t answer right away, not until you are almost to the bathroom and you toss the shirt over towards the couch, “Of course.”

You’ve never seen him move so fast, you barely have time to let out the surprised squeal and jump into the shower, flipping the water on. He grabs you, pulling you back against him as the water sprays over you, kissing where your neck meets your shoulder. You push back against him, feeling his half hard cock on the small of your back.

He growls, his hand trailing between your thighs. You moan as his fingers dip into your folds, slowly circling your clit. He spins you, your back against the spray as he leans down to kiss you desperately.

He grabs at your thigh, going to hike your leg up and you feel it before you can warn him, your feet slipping on the smooth floor.

Your heart jumps into your throat, brain in full ‘oh shit’ mode. You lose your balance and start falling back

“Dean, Dean, De-!” You panic. Dean catches you in time, you don’t know how, but then he slips, falling back, pulling you with him. Both your hands fly out in sheer panic, grabbing for anything to keep you steady. Unfortunately, that is the shower curtain and rod.

He lands on his back with a thump, loud enough that it sounds like he cracks the damn tub or maybe his back. You land on top of him, his arms protectively around you, but they don’t save you from the curtain rod bouncing off the back of your head.

You cringe, slowly stretching, making sure nothing is broken before you glance nervously up at him, “I’m sorry.”

He ignores your apology, “Are you alright sweetheart?”

“Dean I-I’m so so-,” you keep apologizing over and over until he cups your chin.

“Dammit Y/N, are you alright?” His eyes search your face wildly.

“What?” you’re confused, “Of course I’m alright, are you? Oh god.” You realize you are still laying on him and you scramble to get up. In your hurry you manage to slip again, crashing down on him.

“Uff.” Dean grunts, letting out a sharp breath. You want to die from the embarrassment of it all. This is Dean fucking Winchester, who must have had shower sex a million times and you go and fall and ruin it.

“Here,” Dean sits forward, letting you get up slowly, supporting you until you are safely outside the tub. You reach in, pulling the curtain out that is sticking to him and by the time you turn back around, he is up, and rubbing his shoulder, grimacing.

His eyes meet your worried ones and as soon as he recognizes it, he shakes his head, a soft smile on his lips, “It’s not your fault.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He reaches out, guiding you to turn around, checking your neck where that bar had hit you, “Number one- We were eventually going to hit one that would go wrong. Number two- I stand by what I’ve said before, shower sex is complicated. Especially when one of us is a midget.”

It gets you to chuckle and that is enough for him, he laces his fingers through yours and pulls you out to the other room, picking up his t-shirt and handing it to you, “You want to go find some grub?”

You nod, “Yeah, but I’m going to need more than your t-shirt to do that.”

He full body laughs, “Yeah, I guess you would.

______

Dean had called Sam on the way out and now the three of you were sitting in a booth at an all you can eat brunch buffet and you are on your second plate of bacon and pancakes, scarfing them down with your fourth cup of coffee.

You look up from your plate, Sam watching you with a slightly worried expression from across the table and Dean beside you looking amused, “What?”

Dean laughs, “Not a thing.”

“Shut-up,” you cut up the last pancake on your plate, “I’m freaking starving.”

“Work up an appetite?” Dean teases.

You can’t help but blush, but you don’t miss your opportunity, “Just getting my strength up for later.”

“Oh c’mon,” Sam slams his fork down and throws his hands up, “I’m eating.”

“So you’re done with that?” You ask, sliding his plate of egg whites your way.

“Are you serious?” Sam stares in disbelief as you start in on those too.

Dean howls beside you, “That’s my girl.”

You can’t help but smile, glancing shyly up at him, the warmth in his eyes infectious. He bumps your shoulder with his before sliding out of the booth, heading for the buffet again. You watch him for a moment before you glance back to Sam sitting across from you, who despite what just happened looks amused.

“What?” You question, pulling back into yourself.

“Nothing.”

“Spit it out Sam.”

He shrugs, “You’re happy.”

“So?” you cock an eyebrow, “It’s not like I’m never-”

He shakes his head, “That’s not what I mean.”

And you don’t get a chance to pry further before Dean slides back next to you, his plate full of bacon, “Gotta get my ten bucks worth.”

You roll your eyes, this freaking man, “What do you guys want to do today?”

Sam sets his coffee down, “There is this hike through a small part of the desert tha-…” he stops, bitch-facing Dean’s ‘really’ look.

Dean swallows whatever is in his mouth, “I kinda wanna hit up the poker tables, maybe play a little roulette.”

He glances down at you, silently asking. You shrug, “Sit by the pool. I just want to relax.”

____

An hour later you are sprawled out on one of those white, long, lawn chairs that can only be found at pools. You’re wearing this two piece that doesn’t show a ton but even you gotta admit, your boobs look pretty damn good in it, and it almost makes up for the tummy that you have. And now you are enjoying the sun, getting your once a year super tan, the drink you had gotten sitting beside you even though it wasn’t even noon yet.

You sip it down, pulling your sunglasses over your eyes and dozing off. A couple of strangers talk to you that sit beside you, but nothing more than ‘hi, how are you’.

A few hours pass and then you see something you never thought you would see: Dean Winchester in swim trunks.

He’s walking towards you and it is all you can do not to laugh, because yes, you have seen him in less than this, but the guy always wore layers and boots in public, even if it was a hundred degrees out. Shorts and flip flops were a bit of a one-eighty.

When he gets to you, he reaches down, brushing the stray hairs away from your face and kissing your, nipping at your bottom lip before pulling away, plopping on the chair next to you.

You can’t help it, “Okay, what the hell are you doing out here? I thought you were playing poker.”

“I was and it was boring.” He replies, half smiling.

“Bullshit.”

“Whatever,” he sits back, putting his hands behind his head, looking over at you.

You’ve known him for too long. He’s trying to play this off, but something else is going on.

You get up, grabbing your empty glass “You want a beer?”

“Sure thing.”

Something was definitely wrong. He didn’t make the joke about ‘only one?’, and he always did that. It was like clockwork.

You get in line, lost in your own little world until a voice behind you startles you, “Can I buy you a drink?”

You spin, surprised, a guy with blonde hair and blue eyes and chiseled abs standing behind your, “Oh-um…no thank you.” You smile awkwardly, trying to be half polite.

“One drink?” He smiles, flashing his teeth.

You swallow and shake your head, “No, I’m here with my boyfriend.”

“Oh, sorry, my bad.” He backs off quicker than the sleazeballs at bars you are used to dealing with.

“It’s alright,” you move up in line but still a few people away from being served, “Vacation?”

He shakes his head, “Business trip, but I’m taking full advantage.”

You talk to him for the couple minutes you are standing there, laughing a little before you are finally given the two drinks and you make your way back to Dean.

He takes the beer without a word, and you don’t know what’s wrong with him, he doesn’t look pissed or angry, but it makes you feel like shit because you don’t know what to do. So you just sit back, watching him carefully as he sips his beer, face deadpan and staring forward at nothing.

You sit with your legs crossed underneath you, people watching until your drink is gone. You stand, putting your hand on his shoulder, “I’m gonna head back up to the room.”

He nods but doesn’t say anything, just follows you through the area to the elevators, the ride up quiet. You slip your fingers through his, squeezing his hand which he returns.

Neither of you say a word until you are in the room, you turn to him, “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head, refusing to meet your eyes.

You crane your neck until yours meet his olive ones, smiling softly, “Dean, it’s okay, it’s part of this whole boyfriend, girlfriend thing. You can tell me.”

He swallows hard, his eyes betraying him. God he looks like he’s in pain, like he’s struggling, his lips trembling,  “How much,” he clears his throat, “how much of last night do you remember?”

You tilt your head to the side, trying to figure out where this is going, “Other than a couple points where I’m pretty sure I blacked out in the middle, all of it.”

“Did you mean it?” He whispers, his eyes red around the edges.

You don’t have to think too hard to know what he’s talking about. You take a deep breath, mustering up all of the courage that you have, “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it Dean.”

“How can someone like you l-,” he struggles with the word, “love someone like me?”

You are so confused, no idea what he’s driving at, “Dean, I’ve loved you for years, we’ve been best friends for how freaking long? This is just another step further. We’ve,” you point between the two of you, “ just taken a step further.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “You deserve so much more than me.”

You scoff, “What?”

He throws up his hands, frustrated, the words tumbling, “You deserve it all, the apple pie life…You’re beautiful and smart, and every damn guy wants you, the pool is proof of that!”

“What are you talking about?”

“That ‘oh I have six pack abs and a fuck ton of money’.” He swallows hard, “How the fuck did I end up with you?”

You take his hands, looking up at him, “Number one, not every guy wants me. I think you are going overboard. And even if they did, sure I would get a white picket and two point five kids and it would all be a fucking joke Dean…Could you even imagine me going to PTA meetings and playing bridge or whatever the hell people play?”

It gets a small smile out of him.

“I mean come on, I swear like a sailor and I drink like a fish, and I don’t want that kind of life  Dean. I want you.” You suck in a huge breath, “I deserve someone who is going to let me be me and that’s you. I love you, and I wouldn’t trade us for anything.”

You are shaking so hard by the time you are done talking. There, it is all out, all out there on the table for him to do what he wants with it.

He slowly looks up at you, swallowing, fighting to hold in tears as he reaches out and holds you by your elbows, “Are you serious?”

“Yes Dean.” You smile, moving closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and standing on tiptoes to kiss him. He dips himself, purposely missing your lips and kissing all over your face, leaving you giggling until he wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you tight against his chest and he buries his face in your hair, holding you as close as he can.

You wrap your arms around his waist, locking your hands behind his back, holding onto him as tight as you can.

He loosens his grip, backing up and pulling you with him until he falls back on the couch and pulls you in his lap. Dean’s hands cup your ass, sliding under the bottoms before finding the knot in the side and untying one side and then the other, tossing them away.

You reach behind yourself, your eyes never leaving his, getting rid of the top, your breasts falling free. His rough hands grip at your sides, squeezing, trailing their way up to cup you, his thumbs rubbing over  your nipples, making your back arch.

You take his face between your hands, thumbs running over his stubble. The way he is looking at you, his eyes so open and unsure, makes you feel braver than you have ever felt, “You wanna know why I love you Dean Winchester?”

He smiles hesitantly, turning to kiss your palm, “Why?”

You lean down, kissing the tip of his nose, “Because you make me feel safe, and I’ve never felt like that before.”

He takes in a shaky breath, pushing your hair behind your ears before holding you still, his lips finding yours. He kisses you like never before. It has always blown your mind, but this, there aren’t any walls anymore and you realize that you have been so caught up in how afraid of how you feel about him, you never once thought that Dean was scared too.

Here is this man, this man who is always so sure, who has this cocky ass attitude and this smile that makes your heart flutter. He’s brave and kind and so incredibly strong.  He has all that, and he’s still as insecure about this as you.

Dean smiles, this soft little thing, not the cheeky, shit eating grin that everyone else gets to see. This one is reserved for you and him.

“C’mere.” He murmurs, adjusting on the couch, turning and laying back so you are on top, lifting you to straddle his chest, hands pulling you closer.

You realize where he is guiding you, “Dean, I-.”

He winks, “I thought you said you feel safe?”

“Don’t use my words against me Winchester,” you laugh, knowing he’s teasing you, getting you to relax.

“Don’t think sweetheart…I just want to feel you,” his hands grip your thighs, moving you over his face. Part of you is incredibly self conscious, but when you look down at him, see the way he is looking at you, those thoughts are forgotten.

You let yourself fall forward, hands balancing on the arm of the couch, his lips leaving sweet, soft kisses on your inner thighs.  His hands run over the back of your thighs, wrapping around to the front as your legs shake with anticipation.

Dean pulls you down, despite the nervous tension in your legs, his warm breath fanning over your aching core. His eyes meet yours as he flicks his tongue out, parting your folds, dragging it over your clit. Your entire body shudders, hands gripping the couch as his mouth sends tingles up your spine.

His arms lock down, holding you in place, arching his neck so his mouth covers your pussy, moving, sucking your juices and your clit. You tremble, wanting to press down but afraid to, rocking your hips side to side, trying to be closer, trying to find friction but terrified to. Dean reads your body, pulling you closer until his nose is pushed against your clit, his face buried against you.

You scramble to keep your balance, his tongue dipping into your entrance, playing against your walls. Your thighs clench, your body bucking shamelessly, his nose continuing to rub your clit, tongue fucking you. Sweat breaks out across your skin, nails clawing at the fabric, “G-god Dean.”

You cry out as he sets your body on fire, you can’t help but let go. Your hands leave the arm, searching for his hands. It takes Dean a moment, his grip loosening, his fingers lacing with yours. He grunts against you, the vibrations making you moan in response, drawing a groan from him. And it is downright fucking sinful when mixed with the sloppy, wet, sucking noises coming from his face pressed against you.

He presses his tongue flat against your clit and you fall apart, the orgasm washing through you. You squeeze his hands, grinding yourself down on his face, your legs shaking so hard you shouldn’t be upright. His tongue continues to work you over, drawing this out, Dean licking up everything he can as your nails bite into his skin.

You are still twitching when he lifts your hips back, scooting and sitting up so you slid into his lap. Your arms reflexively wrap around him, your lips crashing against his, tasting yourself. He opens to you, his tongue sliding and dancing with yours, holding you as close as he possibly can.

It’s not about the sex anymore, it has gone way beyond that. This, all of this, is about being close to someone you love, sharing something with him, about him sharing something with you. It’s about having fun with your best friend, it’s about seeing this part of each other that no one else ever gets to see. It’s knowing that in the morning you are both going to be there and you are going to face this crappy little world together.

You break the kiss first, struggling to breathe, your lungs begging for air. Smiling, you press a kiss to his cheek, trailing your lips over his jaw and down his neck. Dean wraps a strong arm around your waist, lifting you, settling you down on his thick cock, letting it fill you up as you sink down.

He presses his face into your shoulder as you flutter around him, grunting low. After a moment, he nuzzles against your neck, “You know why I love you Y/N?”

“Why?” You whisper against his skin.

He’s quiet for a moment, and he chuckles, “The way you look at me. How you make me- how you make me feel like I’m a good man… I never feel like I need to hide who I am around you.”

You lean back a little, taking his face between your hands. His olive eyes are shy, nervous as he worries the inside of his cheek, “Dean, you are a good man.”

He shakes his head, eyes falling from yours. You don’t push him, though now you know something you are going to work towards making him believe, you’d get him there someday.

You press your lips to his collarbone, rolling your hips, his cock dragging over your walls. Dean groans, pulling you tight to his chest, his hips barely moving to meet yours but for some damn reason, it makes it all the more intense. Every movement has purpose.

Instead of fire, it’s hot coals, it’s this crawling, pulsating sensation that works its way through your body slowly. It is your body moving in harmony with his, and every time he moans your name your heart jumps into your throat. It’s this constant, even push and pull that makes everything so on the precipice that it hurts in the best way possible.

You are sweating and trembling in his arms, he’s shaking and panting in yours when you both come at the same time. Your pussy clenches around his cock as he spills fully seated within you, twitching in your fluttering walls. You bury your face against his neck, unable to make a sound as your body convulses on its own, drawing both of your orgasms out.

It’s a long time you are like that, content to be held, feeling his softening cock within you, listening to his pounding heartbeat.

Dean presses a kiss to your shoulder, lying back, positioning you between him and the back of the couch, your legs tangling together as he takes your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

It’s quiet, you playing with his fingers, him smiling when they slip and he grabs them again, squeezing them tightly. You snuggle in against him, feeling sleepy.

“Hey Dean?” You whisper, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“Hmm?” He pulls back just far enough that he can see your face, his neck craning.

“Why did you come down to the pool?”

“I know what that bikini looks like on you.” He smirks, very obviously looking over your body.

You roll your eyes and shake your head. He grabs your chin, “You still don’t believe me, do you?”

You slowly shake your head back and forth.

He sighs, pressing his lips against yours quickly, “I’ve got an idea for that.”

You giggle, “Do I even want to know?”

He presses his lips together, cocking his eyebrow dramatically, “Well it involves me going down on you for a really long time and the right motel. Probably the pay by the hour type.”

You try and rack your brain, “I give up.”

“Then you will find out…In the meantime, there are a couple more things on that list I want to try while we are in Vegas.”

You laugh, “Which ones?”

“Do you know where it is at” He untangles himself from you, letting you slip off the couch.

“Like you don’t have it memorized,” you tease, grabbing his t-shirt that was still on the corner of the couch from this morning.

“I don’t know why you are even bothering to put that on sweetheart, I’m just going to take it back off.”


	10. Mutual Masterbation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes you up with some bad news about Vegas

“Sweetheart?” Dean’s voice is there, your brain groggy with sleep. You moan and hug the pillow tighter, burying your face into it.

He chuckles, “C’mon, you gotta get up.”

“Nuh-uh,” you protest, curling up more.

His hand runs up and down your side, “Sam heard of a hunt and we are the closest right now.”

You grumble incoherently, opening one eye. Deans sitting on the edge of the bed in front of you, fully dressed, looking amused, “C’mon.”

You shake your head, flipping over and pulling the covers around you like a child. You had been sleeping so damn go so you are a little put out.

He shakes you gently, “I already packed your stuff and let you sleep as long as I could. Sam is going to be bitching.”

You roll back over, “What about your no leaving Vegas rule?”

He half smiles, running his fingers over your face, “It’s a bad one. Looks like some demons.”

“Fuck.”

“Get a shower and I’ll meet you out front. I’ll even be awesome and go get you Starbucks if you roll your ass out of bed.”

He knows you loved that coffee, and you also know his despise for ‘hipster-y’ things, “Really?”

“Yeah, I will go to the damn place where they don’t understand ‘large’ and it’s some ‘benti’ shit.”

You giggle, “It’s venti.”

He rolls his eyes, “Whatever.”

“Deal…But isn’t the shower broken from, well, us?”

“I fixed it pretty quick. It was just the rod. So you getting what you usually get?”

You cock an eyebrow, “You know what I usually get?”

“Damn right,” he says smugly.

“Okay,” you laugh, sitting up, leaning forward and kissing him. He cups your cheek, keeping the kiss fairly chaste, because it would take you both about half a second to become distracted and Sam would be waiting for an hour.

“Shower,” he says, clearing his throat and backing away.

“Yeah, yeah…”  You watch him stride out of the room, hearing the door click before you drag yourself out of the bed, heading straight for the shower.

___

It only takes you twenty-five minutes to be strolling out the hotel in skinny jeans and a loose t-shirt, your hair tied high in a messy bun. Dean is leaning against the side of the Impala, talking to Sam when he sees you and smiles, grabbing the cup off the roof.

“Thank you,” you take a hesitant sip, half expecting it to be wrong, pleasantly surprised when it is exactly right.  

Dean winks, a proud smirk on his face, “Well, let’s get this show on the road.”

You crawl into the backseat, setting your cup in the makeshift cupholder, sitting in the middle, crossing your legs and scrolling through your phone for a few minutes, looking over your missed texts and emails from other hunters, getting caught up. It wasn’t anything too pressing, just quick updates on which hunts they were grabbing.

You lean forward, resting your chin on your arms on the back of the bench seat in between the boys. Dean turns enough to see you, a smile playing at his lips. You really want to kiss his cheek, but you don’t want to distract him from the road.

“So Sam, what’s the scoop on the hunt?” You ask, Sam reaching down to turn down the music despite Dean rolling his eyes.

“A few people have been snatched in New Mexico, they get arrested and can’t remember the last few days.” He pulls up a few pictures on his laptop for you to see, the before and afters of some of these people. They look like a suburban nightmare and then bloodied and ridden hard.

“Most of them,” he continues, “go on mass murder sprees.”

You nod, reading over his shoulder, “Just one demon?”

Sam nods, contemplating, “Far as I can tell. It is one right after another.”

You scan quickly, seeing a pattern and point to a spot about halfway down the article, “What about this guy?”

“The cop?” Sam scoffs.

“He’s the first responder at all of them.” You shrug, “Just a thought.”

“Huh.” He scrolls quicker, thinking.

You catch Dean’s proud glance and you smirk. He smiles, reaching up and gripping your forearm. You press your lips to his knuckles, forgetting that Sam is there for a moment.

“Aww.” Sam teases and you shoot him a dirty look, Dean’s hand retracts from your arm, punching his little brother in the shoulder.

Sam laughs, “C’mon, keep it out of the car.”

You can’t help it, the corner of your lips twitch, Dean sees it and snorts trying to hold back the laugh, “You’re a little late on that one Sammy.”

“For fucks sake.” Sam shakes his head, half laughing, half groaning.

____

Three days into the hunt and it is hopeless. You can’t find the guy the demon jumped into next. There’s no pattern, no trail, hell you’d think it was gone if it wasn’t for the two bodies found yesterday.

Plus, you are still stuck on that damn cop.

You’d tested him right away, slipping holy water in his coffee while Dean talked to him, nothing. But how in a station that employs almost thirty cops is this one the first responder on all of them? You don’t have a fucking clue.

You watch him from the coffee shop across the street where he is sitting in a speed trap. He hasn’t moved for two hours and neither have you.

Sighing, you glance back down at the laptop in front of you, it’s just there for show and a little research. God, you need more caffeine if you are going to stick this out any longer. You are about to go get one when you see the squad car pull onto the main road.

“Shit,” you shove everything into your bag, bolting out the door and to the car you had ‘picked up’ earlier. You toss the stuff in the other seat, pulling out of the parking spot in time to see Deputy Claiborne turn left onto a side street.

You hit the gas, bumping this little car up so you can follow him as you dig your phone out, dialing Dean.

He answers in two rings, “Whatcha got sweetheart?”

“Deputy’s on the move.” You take a right, heading down the highway out of town, following about three cars back, “I’m tailing him.”

“Where are you at?” His voice immediately becomes strained and you roll your eyes on reflex.

“The highway heading south of town. Dean I’m fine, he’s not a demon.”

“Wait for me and Sam.”

“I’m just following him Dean, noth-.” You’re cut off as glass shatters, metal crunches, and your seatbelt constricts around you, vision going black as your head collides with the steering wheel.

___

The sound of feet shuffling around brings you into consciousness, but you aren’t sure how you can hear it over the blood rushing inside your head. You will yourself not to open your eyes, to keep your head slumped as you twitch your arms, hands tied tightly behind the chair you are sitting on. Shit.

“I know you’re awake,” the male voice calls from in front of you. Opening your eyes, raising your head you see the man who had disappeared five days prior, Chris. As soon as your eyes meet his, they flash black.

You take in the room slowly, it’s dark, block cement, damp. You’re in a basement. That’s about as far as your mind will go right now though, the incessant pounding making it hard to think straight.

Swallowing hard, you try and go through the mental assessment ‘is everything where it should be?’ But he interrupts your thoughts, “So the Winchesters’ little pet, just right here. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was when the Deputy told me you were following him.”

You stretch your shoulders, testing the bounds, “Stop with the melodramatic bullshit and get to the point.”

He smirks, walking forward, backhanding you so hard you see stars, “I don’t need you, the King wants them.”

“Fucking Crowley,” you mumble under your breath, rolling your eyes. The demon grabs your chin hard, squeezing so it makes your teeth hurt.

“You’re just bait.”

You spat, “Fuck off.”

He reels back and slugs you, hitting you again and again. You try so hard, try to keep your brave face on. Dean and Sam will come for you, they will. But you don’t want to go through this again, you don’t want to be strong again. It’s hard to even stay awake right now.

A door behind you slams, “They are pulling up.”

“Fantastic.”

You spit the blood pooled in your mouth on the floor, chuckling, “You have no idea.”

His hands travel over your body, coming to rest on your upper arm and shoulder, “I need you to get them moving.”

Before you can come up with a smart ass remark, he rips his hands in different directions, a sickening pop filling the air and you scream at the pain, you can’t stop it as your shoulder dislocates.

“Y/N!” You hear Dean’s muffled hollers as black spots appear in your vision. Dammit, don’t pass out, don’t pass out.

Chris leaves you. You move your hands, trying to undo the ropes you had managed to loosen a little, but that shoulder, it fucking burns and every time you pull the tunnel vision closes in. You can barely see when you get the knot undone.

You fall forward, yelping when you hit the ground, your entire body weak. Shear fear drives you, fear for the boys, fear for Dean as you crawl to the steps, propping yourself up. You take one agonizing step after another as your body protests, each one harder than the last, the evening light hitting your face as you scramble out the top into the open.

You stand up in time to see Dean shove the demon blade into that assholes chest.

“Y/N?” Dean sees you, face pained.

“D-dean.” You crumple to the ground, falling into the blackness.

___

“Fuck! Drive faster Sam!” Dean growls, you see streetlights come in and out of view, everything is fucked up though, like you are only getting half the picture.

He’s holding you to his chest, and everything is pounding. God, he’s so warm.

His face turns to you and sees you’re awake, “Hey sweetheart. Just stay with me, alright?”

“She awake?” Sam’s raised voice hurts your ears.

“Yeah, just get to the fucking motel so we can start patching her up.”

You groan as the car jostles, everything fading out again.

____

The bright light hurts your eyes, even when they are closed. That’s when you realize you can only open one, “D-dean?”

“I’m right here sweetheart, you’re doing so good.”

“S’kay.” you slur, aware of the needle stitching you up, but now everything hurts so the pricking? It’s just kinda there.

“I’ve almost got all the glass out of this one.” Sam sounds so far away, “You going to get her shoulder?”

“I was hoping she’d pass out again.” Dean mutters, his hands on your bare skin.

“It’s better to do it sooner Dean.”

“I know,” his hand’s on your face, brushing the hair away from your sweaty forehead. You turn your head so you can see him. He forces a smile, even your groggy brain can comprehend that, “I’m so sorry sweetheart.”

You can’t respond. Just hear the sickening pop, feel the shooting pain rack through your body and slip back into unconsciousness.

___

You sleep, and keep sleeping, waking up for little windows of time that you can vaguely remember.

“She’s going to be fine Dean.”

“She needs to wake up.”

“She will, she’s tough.’”

Then nothing.

“I love you so much sweetheart.” His hand squeezes yours gently.

Black again.

“Dean you should get some rest.”

“No! Stop telling me that.” Dean growls, his grip tightening around your hand.

“I get it man, I really do.”

“No you don’t!”

“Yes I do-I know you love her, okay?

You lose Dean’s voice for a second, but then it is there, barely more than a whisper, “More than anything.”

Everything is gone again.

____

Dammit, everything hurts so damn much as you groan. Finally you can form a coherent thought, your one eye opening, searching the room, finally landing on Dean. His hand is still holding yours, but he is asleep, sitting half on a chair, his upper body slouched over the bed and he rests on his arm.

You squeeze his hand, “Dean?” Your voice is weak and scratchy, “Dean?”

He jumps a little, eyes searching and when he sees your awake you see the stress fall away, “Hey beautiful.”

He sits straight, moving himself over to the bed to sit beside you. Everything is fuzzy, but pieces are starting to fall together as you remember bit by bit.

You swallow hard, “C-can’t see right.”

He touches your face gently, “I know, the one is swollen shut right now, it should go down in a couple days….Fuck I’m so sorry sweetheart.”

You shake your head, going to sit up, Dean’s hands immediately on you but you push them away weakly. Instead of fighting with you he helps you sit up, your body protesting the whole way, but every small movement makes your brain less foggy.

His hand rubs up and down your back, watching you carefully, “I’ve had worse Dean.”

“I don’t care.” He grumbles.

You inspect what you can see, a set of stitches on your thigh, bruises that have an icky yellow tint everywhere, your shoulder is sore as hell and you can only imagine what your face looks like, “Goddammit.”

“Y/N-.”

“I swear if you apologize again Dean, I’m going to punch you.” You glare at him.

He half smiles, “I’d like to see you try with that arm.”

“I’d make it count,” you smile but his face falls again, “Dean, I went off on my own, this one’s on me.”

“I wasn’t there-.”

“There was no way we could have known,” you reach out and squeeze his thigh reassuringly.

His whole body moves with the sigh as he looks at you through his lashes, lips pursed. He’s going to keep blaming himself, you know that.

“How long was I out?”

“You were missing for about eight hours and you’ve been here for a day and a half.”

You nod, “Alright, I gotta move.”

“The hell you do,” Dean growls.

Automatically you go to roll your eyes but it hurts like hell, “Shit…Dean, I gotta pee and I need some water.”

“I can carry yo-.”

“No!” You say sternly, and it hurts your chest. You don’t think you broke any ribs, but you might have cracked a couple in that crash.

He goes to argue but you shake your head. He rolls his eyes this time, getting off the bed, “C’mon.”

“You’re not babysitting me in the bathroom!”

“The fuck I’m not.”

“Dean. No!”

He shakes his head, adamant, “Really Y/N? I can see you bleeding to death or buck ass naked but taking a piss is where you draw the line?”

“Yes!”

“Too bad…or I will fucking carry you.”

You exhale heavily, “You wouldn’t dare.”

He shrugs stiffly, “Try me.”

You’re half tempted to, but think better of it. You go to push yourself up, realizing too late that your arm is still too tender. You wince, Dean’s immediately there, hovering.

“I’m fine,” you force your voice to be reassuring. You know he doesn’t buy it as he grumbles something you can’t make out, steadying you as you try again.

When your upright the blood rushes to places it hasn’t been to for two days, you feel lightheaded and dizzy instantly. You wobble.

“Please Y/N.”

You shake your head, taking a tentative step then another, the pain there, shooting through you but manageable. He can’t take it anymore, his arm hooking around your waist protectively, not supporting you, but already there in case something happens.

Dean helps you the entire way, waiting patiently inside the bathroom even when you shoot him a nasty glare. He just shakes his head, shrugging and leans back against the wall.

You clean up a little in the mirror, god your face looks like hell. The one side is purple, an angry red, swollen so much it had started to split over your cheekbone. Your lip is split open, the other side of your face wasn’t bad except for a bruise on your chin.

Finally you turn back to him and he’s watching you carefully, unsure, with his arms crossed. You force a smile, even if it stings a little. He chuckles, closing the distance between you and brushing your hair away from your face before bending down and kissing your forehead, “Don’t scare me like that again.”

You meet his eyes, “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

He exhales heavily, eyes moving over your face. You touch his arm tenderly before turning and heading back out, and you don’t realize how tired and dizzy you actually are until you go from the brightly lit bathroom to the dimly lit main area.

Your knees wobble, threatening to give out, but Dean is right there and he doesn’t ask, your feet leave the floor and you are cradled against his chest.

“Dean, put me down.” You huff indignantly.

“I will…” He growls, “On the damn bed.”

Dean sets you so you are sitting against the headboard, and if you weren’t frustrated with the whole situation, you would be grateful.

He’s quiet for a moment, sitting down so your thighs touch but he is facing you. You reach out, and he immediately wraps your small hand in his, squeezing lightly.

“Thanks Dean.”

“Don’t have to thank me sweetheart, not for that.” He mumbles, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand.

After a little bit he pulls his hand away, “I’ll get you some water and I’m going to go tell Sam you’re alive…he was worried.”

You can’t help but chuckle, “Just Sam was worried?”

Dean cracks a little smile, “Just hysteric.”

He heads out the door and you close your eyes, leaning back against the pillows. You are fast asleep before he even makes it back.

_____

You are snuggled up against Dean’s side when you wake up, the good side of your face pressed against his shoulder, his arm wrapped around you, his head just against yours. Your arm is thrown over his chest, his fingers laced through yours as he takes deep, even breaths.

You can open your one eye a little bit today, but you close it and nuzzle back against him, accidentally waking him up.

“You alright sweetheart?” He yawns.

“Mhm.” You press yourself against him, getting as close as you possibly can.

He kisses the top of your head, untangling himself from you, “I’m starving and you gotta eat. Pizza?”

“Sounds good.”

He dials using the motel phone, ordering a large, giving them the address. You get up on your own while he’s not looking. He hears you too late, glaring when you take a gimpy step towards the mini fridge, then another and another until you can grab a bottle of water, chugging it.

The cold water hurts on the way down, getting balled up behind your sternum, but you don’t care as you down the whole thing, tossing the empty bottle away and grabbing another to take with you.

When you turn he is sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you, ready to move if anything went wrong, “Could you not give me a heart attack today?”

“I think the burgers and the fried food are going to do that, not me.” You tease.

He bitchfaces you for a moment before cracking a smile, “I’m not giving up my food.”

“And I’m not giving up hunting,” you say seriously, standing with your knees against his.

He looks up at you, grabbing your hips and guiding you onto his lap where you rest back on his strong thighs, “I wasn’t going to ask you to.”

“Really?” You cock an eyebrow.

He nods, “Really. I thought about it, sure. But I realized it’s what we do. I’d feel a hell of a lot better with you beside me than forcing you to stay here…Not that I could force your stubborn ass to do anything anyways.”

You place your hands on either side of his face, pressing your lips to his. It makes the cut on your lip sting as his move against yours but you don’t care one bit.

Dean holds your hips firmly, chuckling, pulling away, his warm breath fanning over your face, “No funny business until you’re healed up.”

You scoff, “Dean Winchester is telling me no funny business? That’s a plot twist I never saw coming.”

He laughs, kissing your cheek, “Yeah, I know, huge turn of events.”

“I feel better today.”

He shakes his head, “Not that much better.”

You let out a dramatic sigh, but as you go to scoot off him you can feel the bulge under his jeans, “I’d say your body disagrees with you.”

Its his turn to roll his eyes, “Well I can take care of that myself.

A quick flash of a thought crosses your mind and it passes over your lips before you can stop yourself, “Can I watch?”

“Did I give you the good pain pills?” He laughs.

“No,” you blush, “I just-it just- I said it before I thought it through,” your voice getting increasingly defensive, “It’s one of the things on the list.”

“Mutual masturbation is on the list, not just you watching me.” he chuckles, kissing your neck gently.

“It doesn’t mean I don’t want to.” You whisper, getting redder, not believing the words coming out of your mouth, “or we could do that too. It’s not like I’m going to hurt myself”

He sits back a bit, hooking a finger under your chin, face in awe “You’re serious?”

You nod shyly, heart pounding in your chest,  “Yeah.”

“Okay, where do you want me?”

You giggle nervously, “What would you do before me?”

“We can’t do that because I want to see you.” He says.

“Well now I’m curious.” You pry.

He swallows hard and shakes his head, blushing a little bit, lips pursed, debating, “Bathroom mostly…Sometimes when you guys were asleep, if we didn’t have separate rooms, in bed…” His voice fades off but he clears his throat, “I got an idea.”

You let him stand you up, only letting go once your feet were firmly on the floor. He rocks himself up, and once he is upright, starts stripping, “You aren’t going to need any clothes for this sweetheart.”

You can’t help but smile, slipping out of your, well Dean’s, t-shirt, the only thing you have left after that, your panties, which you let slide down your legs and to the floor. Dean is naked by the time you look back up. Goddammit, you hadn’t seen his bruises yet, littered across his chest and stomach and you can’t help the pang of guilt. It was one thing to get yourself hurt, another to get him injured.

“Had worse,” he cups your chin, kissing you then guiding you to the bed. He plops down, spreading out as he leans back on the pillows, “Sit next to me.”

You do, Dean handing you a pillow before scooting down and making himself comfortable, “Lay back.”

You let yourself fall back on the bed, your side pressed against his so you are facing opposite ways. Dean grabs your leg gently, lifting it over his stomach, making your thighs fall apart, totally exposed to him. You wiggle, setting the pillow half on his leg and relaxing back, your head rests on his thigh, giving yourself a clear view of him.

He watches your face for a moment, his hand rubbing up and down your leg, “You alright?”

You nod quickly, not trusting yourself to speak. You didn’t think you would be this turned on already, but the fact that you know in a few short moments you won’t be touching him, that anticipation, it’s making it hard to breathe.

Your eyes travel from his face to his twitching cock, his hand moving down and around it, gripping. Slowly he starts to pump himself, these even movements that take seemingly forever.

You whine in the back of your throat, your one hand running down your front, over your stomach, fingers slipping past the lips of your already damp pussy, spreading them, just barely touching yourself.

It’s Dean’s turn to groan, his hand twisting with each pump now, gradually picking up speed, his stomach muscles tightening under your leg as he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth.

You start to circle your clit, rubbing, putting just enough pressure to make you start to sweat and twitch, and even though the little jolts from that are running through you, it’s nothing compared to the feeling that runs through you when Dean moans your name, clear as day.

Your entire body shudders.

“Dean,” you whisper his name, not even sure you said it at first but the growl from him let’s you know that you did, his hips starting to rise off the bed, just barely enough to jostle you.

This is probably the hottest thing you have ever done. Watching him get off thinking of you? Beyond words. All you knew was it made you entire body tremble and shake and feel high all at the same time.

You dip your index finger into your aching core. Dean adjusts quickly, half sitting, watching you as his hand grips firmly around himself, pumping harder, “Fuck Y/N.”

You let your head fall back, listening to him as you play with yourself, short, gaspy moans falling from your lips.

“Tell me what you are thinking about Dean.” Your voice is breathy, desperate and demanding.

“Fuck sweetheart,” he struggles in between breaths, “You, all y-you. How you look, the way it feels when I’m buried inside you, the no-noises you make.

Suddenly you feel his hand on your thigh, gripping. Quickly meeting his eyes, you shake your head. He’s struggling, wanting to touch you so bad he’s having trouble controlling it, “No.”

He bites his lip hard, but leaves his hand on your thigh, holding you with the one hand while pumping his cock with the other. It jumps and twitches in his hand, god you want to wrap your lips around it.

You whine, rubbing you sensitive clit faster, in time with his movements. Damn, the noises he makes, the little grunts and groans mixing with your name? It makes you drip onto the bedsheets.

“Baby,” he whispers and you don’t know if it is a question or a call, but you meet his eyes, them boring into yours as his lips part and his breaths come in short gasps. You can’t look away. You can’t look away as your pussy starts to clench around nothing, as your muscles stiffen and tremble.

Your toes curl, your free hand moving up and gripping your breast, squeezing it, imagining his hands on your body instead of your own, “Fuck D-dean.”

“Jesus Y/N,” he growls, his fingers digging into your skin, other hand now out of time with his hips thrusts, unfocused and erratic.

God, you are right there on the edge. Everything is too much and not enough. It doesn’t matter how much you imagine it’s his hands, it isn’t him, but fuck, those moans, those calls of your name make your body tremble and twitch.

Dean grunts, his neck straining, cock jumping in his hand as it spurts all over his lower stomach. The sight of him, him shouting your name, it pushes you over as you curl your fingers inside you, your pussy clenching around your fingers as you come, your neck locking back, face pressed against his thigh; your juices soaking into the sheets underneath of you, coating your hand.

Your entire body shakes in time with his, both of you panting, trying to catch your breath. Dean’s hand rubs up and down your thigh once his fingers unclench. You didn’t even realize your eyes were pressed shut until they flutter open, taking in Dean’s half smile, the complete and total comfort that he radiated.

He pats your thigh lightly, sitting up, crawling overtop of you, his lips hovering a hairbreadth away from yours, his olive eyes searching as he whispers against your mouth, “You’re amazing”

“You’re not too bad yourself,” you giggle, but only for a second before he kisses you, lips moving languidly against yours, pressing the air right out of your lungs.

He leans into the kiss, pushing his weight against you, it’s enough to make your achy body wince.

“Sorry,” he grimaces, immediately retreating.

Your good arm wraps around his neck, pulling yourself up so your lips crash into his, “It’s worth it.”

“Knock it off,” he growls, but it is noncommittal, his mouth moving needily, tongue playing with yours. You really couldn’t give two shits about how much pain you are in, you just want him.

A rap at the door makes you both jump, “Pizza delivery for room twenty-five!”

“Don of a bitch,” Dean sighs, pressing his forehead to yours as he takes deep breaths, calming himself down.

Another rap, “Delivery!”

“Yeah, hold on!” Dean raises his voice, struggling not to sound annoyed and it makes you laugh.

“It’s fine Dean,” you smile at him. Dean crawls off of you, wiping himself off with his boxers, grumbling before grabbing his shirt and jeans, sliding them on while he shuffles to the door.

Luckily the door opens so you remain unseen, able to slip off the bed and slip on your baggy t-shirt while Dean pays for the pizza.

He shuts the door, holding three large pizzas in his hands, “Damn Dean, how much pizza did you think we needed?”

He smirks, setting it on the table and flipping open the lid, “I know how you eat sweetheart.”


	11. Sexting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and you try something new on the way to your next hunt

It’s been three weeks, three freaking weeks since Dean has touched you and you are dying.

The first two weeks had been because you were healing up. He was pretty sure you had cracked ribs and your shoulder had been really sore, so he wasn’t going to chance hurting you, even the couple of times you had insisted.

Then you had gotten the bright idea to tell him either he could have fun with you, or you would take care of it yourself. Dean promptly made sure the two of you shared a room with Sam at the next motel, a smug smile on his face, daring you to go right ahead. If you weren’t so nervous about being caught, you would have called his bluff.

Except now it was over a week since that and you are still stuck in the same damn room. One more night, just one more damn night. This hunt was done and the three of you are moving to the next town.

Sam’s soft snores fill the air, you are curled up under Dean’s arm, pressed against his chest. He isn’t asleep either. You wiggle, pressing your lips against his neck. Dean shifts in response, moving nose to nose with you, shaking his head, mouthing ‘no’.

You roll your eyes, sighing. Dean smiles, whispering in your ear, “Tomorrow.”

You smirk, pushing your lips against his, feeling his chapped ones give way under yours, moving in rhythm. You get lost in it, your eyes fall shut as you feel him.

Dean breaks away, resting his forehead against yours, his hand coming up and cupping your face, thumb brushing over your cheek, “Go to sleep sweetheart.”

“Mhm,” you mumble, wrapping your arm around him and pulling yourself closer. He naturally curls with you, tangling your legs, him nuzzling his face against yours, letting his warmth push you towards unconsciousness

____

The morning is filled with longing glances and lingering touches. You had thought about it, but it had never really hit you how hard the last weeks have been for him too. The both of you had kinda gotten into this routine of doing what you want, when you want, of being able to touch each other and not think.

Not that he toned it down much with Sam around. Dean still hooked an arm around your waist and pulled you to him, kissing you; he still put his hand over yours, he still ran his hand up and down your thigh under every booth, but you wanted him, just him.

You’re leaning against the warm metal of the Impala, arms crossed in front of you as you wait for the boys. Dean comes out before his brother, both of them laughing but when Dean looks up and his eyes meet yours he smiles wider. He makes his way to you, dropping his bag, wrapping an arm around your waist, bending down to kiss you, his lips moving gently over yours.

“Morning,” you smile against his lips, opening your eyes slowly, met with his bright green ones.

He kisses you again quickly, “Morning.”

“Come on you two, get your crap in the car,” Sam teases. You’d found out over the last few weeks that Sam would never miss an opportunity to tease the two of you relentlessly, but he couldn’t be happier that you and Dean were happy.

__

_Dean’s been gone for awhile, and Sam and you have been chit chatting a little about the case, mostly you are just both hungry as hell._

_“You’re really happy with Dean, aren’t you?” Sam strays from talking about vengeful spirits._

_“How the hell is this coming up?” You laugh._

_“I’ve seriously never seen you smile this much in all the years I’ve known you.” He teases._

_You can’t help but blush, looking down from his hazel eyes, playing with your fingers, “Yeah, I am. Dean’s- he’s easy for me to be with. It doesn’t feel forced, which is weird, because if you would have asked me this time last year if I would be with him I would have laughed in your face. Dean with one girl? I mean, come on. Who would have thought?”_

_“With you, yeah.” Sam says like it is plain as day._

_You scoff, “What the heck are you talking about?”_

_Sam shakes his head, shrugging, “I always figured you two would end up messing around eventually. I hoped it would end up with you two like this.”_

_“How did you figure that?” You laugh, “We’ve always were just-.”_

_“I don’t think Dean ever just wanted to be friends with you Y/N,” he cuts you off, “I wish you could have heard the way he always talked about you, even when we all first met up. He’s always had a thing for you.”_

_“No way,” you shake off his words, not really believing them, secretly wanting to._

_“Yeah Y/N, he’s going to kill me for telling you all this, but he has. I’ve given him so much shit for it.”_

_You bring your legs up, wrapping your arms around your knees, resting your chin there, “It just scares me a little, you know? Hunters? We don’t get this, we don’t get happily ever after.”_

_Sam nods, “But what if you do?”_

_“What?”_

_He leans back, “I mean, it’s you two. You both get it, get the life,” he trails off, “that was my mistake.”_

_“Jess?” You only know what him and Dean have kinda told you, you hadn’t been a part of their lives when that had all gone down._

_He nods, “Maybe if I would have told her, the whole thing would have gone down different. Or maybe if I would have left her alone, waited for a hunter…I don’t know, can’t change the past.”_

_You’re quiet for a moment, letting the silence fill the space between you until Sam starts to talk again, “I give you two a lot of crap, but I’m really happy that you guys found each other.”_

_“Me too.”_

_“Just if you could tell your boyfriend to cool it on the PDA,” he teases._

_“He’s your brother, you tell him.”_

_“Yeah, sure…That will only encourage him.”_

____

Dean reluctantly lets go of you, grabbing his bag to toss it in the trunk before heading for the passenger’s seat.

“You’re not drivin’?” No way, Dean always drove.

“Tired, you kept moving around last night,” he cocks an eyebrow as he walks past you.

“Bullshit,” you laugh, “there is no way I could move with how you koala bear around me!”

“Aw, she just called you a koala bear.” Sam snickers.

Dean slams his hand off the roof, “You shut your face.”

You and Sam both break out laughing, Dean just kinda shakes his head, rolls his eyes, muttering to himself as he crawls in the car.

Sam pulls the car out on the highway, it’s a ten hour drive to Tennessee. At first there’s a little talking, then Dean cranks the radio and sings to a song, then more talking, Dean bitching about Sam’s driving. You nod off somewhere, only to be woken back up by your phone buzzing against your leg.

It’s a message from Dean.

**-Don’t be getting sleepy on me. We got big plans.**

_-Big plans in 7 hrs. I got time._

**-Ur right, better rest up sweetheart**

You are half tempted to let it go, but you just can’t.

_-Rest up for what exactly?_

You see his posture change, his body stiffen when he reads the text.

**-You know what**

_-Tell me._

**-I don’t sext sweetheart, I do what I want**

_-Well say what you want to do;)_

You can tell he struggles not to laugh, to keep a straight face while Sam is looking for the next exit, slowing the car to make the ramp.

**-I want to get you in that room, just you and me**

You don’t answer right away, leave him on the ‘read’ for a moment.

_-You can do better than that Winchester._

**-Fine.**

**-I want to kiss you and get those clothes off. Ive been dyin to for weeks.**

_-I’m want to run my hands all over you, feel you…Ever since last time all I can think of is your cock inside me_.

His neck visibly flushes when he reads your message. One thing you have learned about Dean is, he’s fantastic one on one, face to face, he’s such a smooth talker, but when you try something he isn’t used to, when he doesn’t know exactly what he is doing, he will blush just about as hard as you.

Suddenly he looks really determined.

**\- Ur going to have to wait, I got other plans first**

_-Oh really?_

**-Yeah, im going to push you up against that wall, leave marks all over ur neck. work my way down**

_-I’m going to squirm against you, run my fingers in your hair and pull like you like_

**-How do you know I like that?**

You almost start laughing out loud there in the car.

_-How could I not?_

**-Whatever. I thought we were trying to do a thing here?**

_-We are. Keep going._

**\- Well im going to eat you out like you like. But im gonna make you stand up, put your leg over my shoulder so i can fuck you with my tongue.**

You have to adjust in the back seat, crossing your legs and try to focus on your next words instead of thinking about his face and that damn tongue between your thighs. But you can’t, so instead of coming up with something you play your wildcard to get him back.

You flip through the gallery on the phone, looking for a picture that you had taken on a whim in the bathroom a few days before, knowing that someday it might come in handy. It’s kinda funny, before Dean, you never in a million years would have taken a nude photo, but he made it hard for you to be anything but comfortable in your body.

Granted your face isn’t in it, what the hell face were you supposed to make? Smile? Serious? You didn’t know so you pick one of the eight you had saved, this one a view of your breasts and hit send.

Dean almost jumps through the roof, his reaction enough that Sam notices, “Dude, what the hell?”

Dean clears his throat, “Nothing- I must have nodded off, just-whatever, I’m fine.”

**-Dont start**

_-Whatever do you mean?_

**-Y/N! Ur gonna fuckin kill me**

_-Oh you mean this?_

You attach another photo, this one of your whole body reflected in the mirror.

Dean adjusts in the front seat.

**-Theres 6 hours left**

And that gives you a wicked idea.

_-Well I’ve got 6 pics left ;)_

Dean turns in his seat, shooting you a disgruntled look. You smile in response.

_-I’ve got a week of you sticking us in a room with Sam to make up for_

**-Bring it on**

Oh you do, you wait until the hour clicks on the clock before sending the next picture. Dean doesn’t respond, just opens it up on his phone, the muscles in his neck clenching.

The next hour passes, and you send another. This little game leaves your stomach fluttering with butterflies and your panties damp.

Sam pulls off at a gas station when the gauge reads near ‘E’. It’s a blessing in disguise, your stiff from sitting so long and you have to pee.

You run off to the restroom which is off to the side of the building. You hated these truck stop restrooms because half the time you needed to go in to get the key, half the time you didn’t and it was infuriating when your bladder is screaming at you. But you chance it and luckily it’s unlocked.

You’re drying your hands when the knob turns, the reflection showing Dean slipping in the door, locking it behind him, “You’re trying to fucking kill me.”

You turn, looking him up and down, trying to smile innocently, “Don’t have a clue what you are talking about.”

Dean closes the distance between your, his hands on either side of your face, backing you up until your ass hits the sink, pressing the bulge in his jeans against your lower stomach, his eyes dark and focused on you, “I think you know exactly what you were doing.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, his lips crashing against yours, kissing you roughly as his fingers tangle in your hair. It’s all teeth and tongue, his mouth moving against yours hungrily, like he cannot possibly get enough of you.

You break away, struggling to breathe, “Here?”

Dean nods and fumbles in his hurry, reaching between you and undoing your belt and button of your jeans as he gasps for air. His mouth finds yours again as he shoves your pants down, realizing too late that they aren’t going to make it past your boots.

He spins you around, your hands gripping the edge of the sink to steady yourself. You’re lightheaded and dizzy from him.

His belt jingles and jeans unzip as you meet his eyes in the tarnished mirror. Dean’s hand grips your hip as he kicks your legs further apart, dragging his achingly hard cock through your slick folds. You whine and press back against him, biting your bottom lip as the head of his cock continues to brush your clit over and over again.

You whine as he pushes the tip into your entrance, slowly stretching you, his movement in direct contrast to the hurry you were both in a moment ago. But you see his face in the mirror as he bottoms out, his eyes shutting and his mouth falling slack as you clench around him and Dean reveals in it.

Oh god, your entire body shudders.

His hands grip your hips hard, fingers tight enough there will be bruises later. Dean pulls all the way back, almost falling out, just the tip left inside that your pussy clenches around. You brace yourself, Dean slamming back into you, the slap of his hips on your ass echoing off the tile walls.

“D-” you start to shout but his hand covers your mouth, stifling your voice as he leans over.

“You gotta try to be quiet sweetheart.”

You nod frantically, pushing your ass back against him, his hand falling away, moving down you back, then back up, pushing your shirt up and you hair over your shoulder so he can see you.

“Dean,” you whine his name, grinding back against him.

“Fuck,” he rolls his hips, “you were driving me crazy. Those picture, couldn’t wait to touch you.”

You moan as he starts to move faster, holding you tight and still as he pounds into you, one even, hard thrust and then another. The drag of his cock on your front wall, head brushing against your g-spot makes your back arch up.

Dean presses the small of your back, pushing you back down as he moves faster. You whimper, gripping the cool sink, your knuckles turning white, fingers going numb.

He pushes you higher, the whole rest stop quickie forbidden feel of the whole thing making your skin buzz. Dean pulls your hips up until your on your tiptoes, holding you there as he changes the angle, thrusting into that sweet spot.

“Oh god,” you whine, letting your head fall between your arms as your gasp for breath and your eyes press shut. His hand leaves your hips, tangling in your hair, pulling, the pain please of it making you clench. His eyes meet yours in the mirror, silently begging you to keep watching.

Even when you keep your head up, he doesn’t untangle his fingers, tugging the fistful of hair firmly, making you groan and your legs shake.

“You like that baby?” He growls, and you nod frantically, biting your lip, not trusting yourself to speak because you will probably end up screaming. God he feels so good, you’ve missed this, you’ve missed him, and all of that is getting you towards your end embarrassingly quick.

He focuses on you in the mirror, his olive eyes never leaving yours as his breaths come in pants. God the way he looks at you makes you crazy, and the way he looks as he bites his lip and gets lost in you makes you lose your damn mind.

“F-fuck,” you hiss, reaching back with one hand, finding his thigh, holding on, nails digging into his skin, as your pussy flutters.

His hand lets go of your hip, squeezing your ass before leaving, coming back down with a smack. It takes you by surprise, he’s never done that, and the shock and the sting that rushes through you pushes your over the edge.

You shove yourself back against him, Dean doesn’t stop though, he keeps his cock pushing in and pulling out of your clenching core, prolonging your orgasm. He sees it as your eyes fall shut, as the noise rises in your throat. He pulls you upright, hand clamping over your mouth, letting you shout into the palm of his hand, his thrusts short and erratic.

His strong arms hold you still against his body, grunting in your ear, pounding into you in small, hard movements as his cock throbs within you, spilling deep inside of you, warm ropes of come filling you up.

You relax in his arms, his hand falling away from your mouth, his lips pressing little butterfly kisses to your neck.

“I missed you,” you mumble, turning to press a kiss to his scruffy cheek.

“I never went anywhere sweetheart,” he chuckles, refusing to let you go, his lips finding yours.

You giggle, “Smartass, you know what I mean.”

“I do, I missed you too sweetheart.” He kisses you one last time before backing away, sliding from you. He pulls up his jeans, grabbing you a few paper towels, “Sorry, I didn’t think that one through.”

You roll your eyes, laughing, “It’s alright.”

You clean yourself up, pulling your jeans up and buckling your belt, finally looking up and meeting Dean’s eyes. He’s smirking, “What?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head.

“Obviously it’s something Winchester. Spill.”

“Who knew you had a naughty side?” He teases, winking.

“Oh shut up. Have you seriously never sexted before?”

He shrugs and shakes his head, “Not really, never saw the point.”

You step forward and wrap your arms around his waist, “So how was your first time?”

He full body laughs, “You drove me absolutely fucking nuts. I’m saving those pictures for future use.”

“Oh god,” you shake your head, blushing red.

An awful thought crosses your mind, “Shit, Sam is going to realize…” You know he is cool about you guys, but you don’t want to listen to the incessant teasing for the next four hours.

Dean shakes his head, “Nope…I slipped some Ex Lax into his smoothie when he wasn’t paying attention. We still probably got ten minutes.”

You’re quiet for a moment, the smiles slowly crossing your face as you start to laugh. Goddamn you loved him. The sly preplanning, the way he couldn’t wait to be with you, the way he looks at you. You just can’t get enough.

He smiles in response, holding your hand as he unlocks the door, looking left and right before pulling you with him, his arm slinging around your shoulder.

“You know I still have four pics and four hours right?” You poke his ribs.

“You’re not going to get the chance to send them sweetheart.”

“Why?”

He slides the keys into your hand, “You’re driving.”

* * *


	12. Wax Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s your first hunt back from your injury. Dean thinks he has a way to help you through the soreness

“Your turn,” Dean hands you the shovel, “I dug the last one.”

“Oh come on Dean,” Sam protests, “she’s had more than a month off, she-”

“She’s standing right here,” you look pointedly at Sam, taking the shovel from Dean, “I got this, you boys just stand there and look pretty.”

Sam rolls his eyes, Dean chuckles, “Do you remember how to do this sweetheart, it’s been awhile.”

“Shut up, even rusty I can dig a grave twice as fast as you,” you can’t help but smile, pushing the point into the ground, taking out the first shovel full of dirt.

“Do you want me to time you?”

You flip him off, continuing to dig as they talk for a bit, discussing the corpse that in a matter of time you will be salting and burning. After about ten inches, another shovel hits the hard ground a few feet from yours and you look up to see Dean there, “You were moving too slow.”

“Whatever Winchester.” You chuckle to yourself, pressing the spade into the ground again.

It takes forever, the summer drought making the ground like a freaking rock, even after the first few feet. By dusk you are head height down, sweating through your shirt, muscles starting to ache and a little out of breath. You are kinda out of shape for this coming off the injury.

Your head disappears below the top of the grave and Sam offers his hand down, helping you out of the grave. That far down there is only enough room for one person to shovel and throw the dirt up top. Twenty minutes later Dean’s shovel hits something solid, “Yahtzee.”

He scoots to the side, opening up the lid, all that’s left is a nasty old skeleton, clothes and hair. He hauls himself out, you and Sam pouring gas and salt all over the body. Dean lights a pack of matches, dropping them down, engulfing the body in flames.

The drive back is short and you drop your bag right to the left of the door as you walk into the motel room, not sure how you are going to get your jacket off. Even the twenty minutes sitting still in the Impala leaves your muscles aching, your arms feeling like jello and your shoulders and back burning.

You give it a half ass attempt, groaning low.

“Here sweetheart,” Dean’s hands grip your shoulders, your hands falling to your sides as he pulls the jacket down your arms, tossing it onto one of the chairs. He doesn’t leave where you are standing, his arms wrapping around your front, pulling you back against him, resting his forehead where your neck meets your shoulder.

Leaning back against him, letting his warmth spread through you, you reach up, threading your fingers in his short hair, turning so you can press your lips to his cheek. He smiles against your skin, shifting so his lips brush against yours.

“Thanks,” you whisper against him.

“Always willing to take your clothes off.”

You chuckle, feeling his stubble with his fingertips, “Dork.”

“You know it,” he pulls away, kissing your neck before standing up straight again, “do you want a heating pad or something?”

“I don’t know, you’re pretty warm. And since you were already taking my clothes off…” You laugh, Dean’s body shaking as he laughs with you.

He spins you around, his one arm still around you, holding you flush with him while he cups your cheek, thumb rubbing over your skin, “I’m starting to think you just can’t get enough of me.”

You roll your eyes, “You wish Winchester.”

“I don’t wish, I know.” He presses his lips to yours.

“You’re getting cocky,” you tease.

“Got good reason to be,” he winks.

He sighs, thinking, looking at you for a moment, debating, “Think you can hold still?”

You cock an eyebrow, curious, “What are you thinking?”

The corners of his lips twitch, “Don’t worry about it, just answer.”

“Maybe,” you shrug, “depends on what you are thinking.”

This wicked smirk covers his face, “I just don’t want to tie you up because I don’t want you making yourself any worse.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“I know.” He brushes your hair away from your face, “Think you can get your clothes off on your own?”

“I don’t know,” your tone sarcastic, “I’m so used to you doing it, might be a struggle, but I will see what I can do.”

“Smartass.” He chuckles, letting you go, ditching his own jacket before heading to his duffle bag, digging around.

You undo your jeans, pushing them down, “Do you just carry kinky stuff around with you now?”

He laughs, looking over his shoulder at you, “Yep, I figured out that we don’t ever know when we are getting alone time.”

You smile to yourself, slipping your shirt off, it’s sweet in it’s own way. Dean thinking ahead, always prepared.

You sit on the edge of the bed, watching Dean’s back. He sets some things on the table, then starts to pull his clothes off, exposing his skin, unintentionally letting you appreciate him, letting you stare without him looking at you.

He turns, totally naked, his freckled skin looking tanner than normal under the dim motel lights. He smiles when his olive eyes meet yours. You smile in return, scooting up the bed, making room for him as he crosses the room, a black bag in his hand.

You are curious for a moment, wondering what is in the bag, but you forget it quickly as he tosses it on the night stand and gets closer, his hand gripping your your knee, the pressure moving straight up and settling in your core.

“Sit up,” his voice is low as he scoots behind you, pulling you between his legs and to his chest so you are leaning back against him, resting your head on his shoulder. You turn, pressing your lips to the underside of his jaw, making him smile softly as you press kiss after kiss there.

His hands wander over your body, these little ghost touches that burn just under the surface, leaving goosebumps wherever he goes.

Your eyes fall shut, your forehead pressed against his neck as he cups your breast, thumb running gently over the nipple, circling it until it stands erect before moving onto the next. It draws soft moans from your lips and leaves you burning, wanting for more.

“Dean,” you whisper, somewhere between a plea and a whimper. Your voice doesn’t stop him, doesn’t change the pace of his movements as he cranes his neck, lips brushing against any part of your face that he can reach.

His hands move down over your skin, touches soft, gripping the back of your thighs, hooking your legs over on the outside of his, spreading you open for him. Your thighs ache, sore from earlier, but he moves so gently it’s barely there, making it more of a stretch than a painful pull.

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” you mumble, eyes opening slowly, concentrating on his face rather than his hands. You can always feel what his hands are doing, but you never want to look away from his face, how his expressions change from hard hunter to the soft, warm person when he’s alone with you. You never want to forget it.

Your chest heaves as his fingers slip past your folds, grazing your clit, moving to your slit. He dips his fingers in the wetness, spreading it around before coming back up and circling your clit.

You whimper, pressing your face to his neck as he teases you, holding you in place with his other strong arm around your waist. You take in a sharp breath as the warmth builds throughout your lower stomach.

He smiles, dipping himself to kiss you as he continues, alternating between rubbing your clit and dipping his fingers inside you, never spending enough time in one place to push you over the edge, but time enough for you to be worked up, sweating, panting and quietly begging him for more.

Your body shakes in his arms, your chest heaving as he hold tightly to you, his other hand sliding two fingers inside of you, curling them against your sweet spot. You can’t keep your eyes open anymore, squeezing them shut, your jaw clenching as you rock against his hand, your pussy fluttering around his fingers as your come undone.

It’s this almost wave moving through you, a pressure build up that makes you forget how to breathe and your teeth clamp so tight your head hurts.

“F-Dean,” Your voice so high pitched you barely recognize it as you exhale the air you didn’t know you were holding.

You draw in a ragged breath as he takes his hand away, the withdrawal making you whine.

“Easy baby,” he mutters, leaning away from you for a moment, taking the bag from the nightstand. As he sits back you let your weight rest against him, your brain fuzzy, body warm.

He opens the drawstrings, pulling out two red candles and a lighter. You reach out curiously, taking one from his large hand, spinning it around in your own as you examine it.

“Do you want to try it?” His voice low in your ear, the rumble of it vibrating through your body.

You’re kinda scared, you’ve never really thought about this before. A part of your brain is telling you that this is going to hurt, if there is fire, it is going to burn not feel good. And you almost just say ‘yes’ and roll with it, but you are past that point with Dean now.

“I want to but I’m scared.” You reply, keeping your tone even and as neutral as you can.

He hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your head so his olive eyes meet yours. His brow is slightly furrowed as he searches your face.  You sigh, starting to ramble, “I think it is going to hurt probably more than it actually will. Like I trust you and I know you wouldn’t hurt me, but-”

“Y/N, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” He says firmly.

You smile, reaching up and cupping his cheek, the couple days of scruff rough under the palm of your hand, “I’m pretty sure now I would try anything with you, I’m not nervous about this, about sex anymore, not with you. I just wanted to- I don’t know- let you know that my brain is going a little crazy?”

He smirks, “Well you’ve always been crazy.”

You roll your eyes, “Not nearly as crazy as you.”

“Ouch,” he chuckles, pressing his lips against your shoulder.

You close your eyes for a moment, “Let’s give it a shot.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” You nod, letting your body relax in his arms.

He sets one candle on the mattress, taking the other one from you and lighting it with a click from the lighter. Dean holds in in his right hand while his left runs up and down your body, up your thigh, over your ribs and back down again as you both watch the wax begin to pool below the wick.

The anticipation makes your body go insane. Your heart pounds in your chest, your breaths come in uneven pants, your muscles in your legs tighten and loosen for no reason, and your pussy throbs.

He tilts the candle as his other arm wraps around right under your breasts, holding you still as the wax falls towards the top of your thigh. Your body goes rigid, bracing for the worst. But as the red wax hits your skin it runs the line between pleasure and pain, like when you make the shower as hot as you can so you can barely stand under it for more than a few minutes, but God does it feel good. As it runs down the curve of your thigh, it cools, hardening, tickling your sensitive skin.

You can’t help but gasp, Dean immediately pulling the candle from over your body. Pure reaction makes your hand shoot out to stop his, jostling it, dripping small bits of wax over your hip.

“Shit Y/N,” he hisses apologetically.

“No Dean, keep going,” you breathe.

You feel him growl, the noise low in his throat, vibrating through his chest. His arm grips you firmly as he tilts it again, this time over your stomach. It’s a different sensation here, it stings a little more on the soft skin, but the payback, how your body reacts is freaking worth it. The pleasure of it shoots through you, settling in your pussy, making your extremities feel slightly numb and your entire body feel like it is floating as he continues to drizzle small lines over you.

You write against him, holding tight to his thighs as he lets go of you, moving the burning candle over your breasts, letting the wax fall between them. Your back arches as you moan obscenely.

As he drips it over your right breast his fingers dip into your wet pussy that clenches around him desperately, “Jesus Christ Y/N.”

You can’t form words, only whimper in response, pressing your body back against his, trying to squeeze your legs together for relief. He bends his knees, making your legs spread further, hooking them so you can’t close them.

“Fuck.” Your voice breathy, high pitched as his fingers rub against your front wall, the heel of his hand applying constant pressure to your clit, you trying wildly to grind against it the best you can. But every time the wax slides against your skin, it distracts you, makes your mind try to pull your body a hundred different directions at once and you don’t know what to concentrate on.

Your body shakes almost violently against him as you come undone, the orgasm surprising you, you hadn’t had any idea you were that close, there were so many things, so many sensations going on at once.

You half turn in his arms, the best you can, trying to hold onto him as it consumes you. You have no idea how, but he gets the candle to the nightstand, his arms wrapping around you, holding you to his chest as your body wracks and you yell out his name over and over again.

Dean rolls you to your back, kissing all over your face as you struggle to come down, his hand gentle against your cheek, thumb stroking the skin.

Your fingers grip his arms, desperately clinging to him, trying to make yourself take in a full breath and steady your racing heart.

He presses his lips to yours, whispering against them, “You’re so fucking beautiful sweetheart.”

Your arm hooks around his neck, pulling him against you, your lips crashing against his as you kiss him deeply, reveling in how his lips move so perfectly against yours, anticipating your movements, responding to them in kind.

His hard cock lays heavy against your lower stomach, twitching with every sound you make and you realize somewhere in your orgasm riddled brain that he was probably dying for release.

Your hands find either side of his face, pushing his lips from yours, finding it hard to focus on anything other than his lust blown eyes or those kiss swollen lips, “I want you inside me Dean.”

He groans, his lips finding your neck, kissing there before rocking back on his knees, grabbing your hips and pulling you to him.

His eyes travel over your body, over all the lines of wax, over every curve, every single thing you considered an imperfection. But with him, with Dean Winchester looking at you like that you are confused as to why you ever thought they were.

Dean settles himself between your legs, pressing just the tip into your pussy, his eyes falling shut, swallowing ahrd before he slowly pushes himself all the way in. Your breath gets caught in your throat.

He lets himself fall forward, balancing on his elbows as he shallowly thrusts, his mouth finding yours, giving your small, needy kisses inbetween gasps for air.

You catch the movement of the flame dancing out of the corner of your eye, your head snapping that direction before it registers that all it is is the candle still burning bright. Dean’s eyes follow yours and he reaches out, picking it up and sitting back on his knees, keeping his cock buried inside of you.

Your fingers fist the sheets in anticipation, watching as he tilts it, letting the wax drip over your hip. Your back arches hard, making his cock change angles, sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body.

Dean’s lips twitch, this small smile of wonder as he watches you twitch and squirm with every hot drop, fucking yourself on him.

He lets some drizzle right bellow your belly button, half of it pooling in either direction. You yell, your pussy clenching around him again and again. He grunts, his cock throbbing inside of you, stretching you in the most perfect way imaginable.

Dean pours some more, right above the top of your mound, and fuck, your mind goes blank, the pain, the pleasure morphing into this indescribable high that makes you absolutely insane with need for him.

“Dean, please.” You beg, not sure exactly what you want, but knowing that you need him.

“Fuck sweetheart,” he blows out the candle, tossing it somewhere in the room as he collapses down on you, holding you in his arms as he fucks you. His hips snap against yours as he kisses your desperately, his body pressed to yours.

You’re so lost, so caught up that you can’t tell where you end and he begins. All you know is he feels so right, so good, so fucking perfect. He leans back enough so he can cup your cheek, his forehead pressed against yours.

His eyes press shut, his breaths fanning across your face in erratic pants. You whimper, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as your hips move to meet his, knowing that you are both so close.

Dean thrusts unevenly, and your pussy flutters around him, “Y/N-f-fuck,” he strings incoherent words together as you come undone around him, holding onto him tightly.

You pull him to his orgasm, his cock jumping and throbbing within you. His body collapses on yours, pinning you to the bed as he slowly thrusts, keeping you both on that dizzying high.

You kiss his shoulder, running your fingers through his short, damp hair as you both shake in each other’s arms, completely and totally blissed out. He turns his face, nuzzling into your neck before rolling away, sliding out of you, both wincing at the loss.

You lay on your sides, Dean brushing your hair away from your face and you tracing the lines on his. His eyes are soft as they wander over your face, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. You probably look like a couple of lovestruck idiots but you don’t give a shit.

“Well if I wasn’t sore before, I will definitely be sore tomorrow,” you joke, breaking the silence.

Dean laughs, rolling his eyes, “Awesome.”

“I’m just teasing,” you let your forehead rest against his, “I liked it a lot more than I thought I would.”

He chuckles, “I could tell.”

You shake your head, smiling, “Except, it’s a little messy.” You can feel the dry wax cracking over your skin as you move.

“Son of a bitch,” he rolls you back, looking at the wax on you, the bit that had rubbed on him and then all the crumbles on the sheets, “Fuck, let’s get us cleaned up.”

“Shower and then sleep in the other bed?”

“Yep.”

________

The phone rings loudly, making you jump in Dean’s arms. You bury your face against his chest, whining sleepily, “Make it stop!”

“Fuck,” Dean shifts around, but doesn’t take his arm from around you, “It’s your phone sweetheart.”

“Just ignore it.”

“Can’t, it’s Sam,” He flops back against the pillows, holding you close as he answers, “What do you want?”

You can only hear Sam’s muffled voice on the other side as you squirm closer to Dean, letting his warm body drag you back towards sleep.

Dean’s voice rumbles through his body, heavy with sleep still, “Are you serious?….Goddammit….Yeah, I need a shower, you gonna go get us breakfast?…Not any of that healthy, tofu shit either. Bacon, eggs, real food….Yeah, yeah, bye.”

You groan when you hear the phone hits the nightstand, burying yourself closer to him, “No.”

Dean starts laughing, “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“It involves getting out of bed obviously.” You glance up at him.

Dean smiles, kissing your forehead, “Turns out we burned the wrong bones last night, it isn’t the right chick in the family. Her great grandmother had the same name, but Sam has zero idea where she’s buried. The thing was terrorizing that property last night, kid turned up mauled.”

“Shit,” you mumble, going to sit up, your body still sore and protesting.

“Do you wanna stay here?”

You shake your head, “No, I need to hunt.”

______

“Dean, I really don’t think this is the best plan.” You object, you don’t like him using himself as bait, and you don’t like him going in alone.

“I need you to watch the front.”

“No one is going to come here, it’s almost two in the damn morning.” You mumble, feeling like him going in to save this family form the spirit while Sam is trying to burn the body is a dumbass move.

You think it’s even more of a dumbass move not to have you there to back him up.

A little part of you thinks he is just trying to keep you out of harm’s way. You lie to yourself, saying he wouldn’t do that to you, you had already talked about hunting after your last incident and you weren’t ever going to give it up. Neither was he.

“Just stay here sweetheart.” He turns, kissing you quickly before taking off into the dark, staying low. A little part of you wants to listen, a bigger part won’t let you leave him alone, won’t let you leave this family in harms way if you can do something about it. It takes about two minutes for that bigger part to win, and you move low along the house, slowly until you hear a crash within.

“Shit.” You hiss, breaking into a run, taking the front steps two at a time, jerking the door open and rushing inside, shotgun at the ready.

You hear the screams, Dean telling them to get back, the air of the house frigid around you. Shit, shit, shit.

You have your gun up, racing through the living room into the hallway, immediately being tossed against the wall, shoulder slamming and cracking the drywall.

“Y/N!” Dean shouts, voice somewhere between anger and panic.

“I’m fine!” You yell, waving him off, “Get them safe.”

You push yourself off the ground, trying to get your bearings in the dimly lit house. You have  no idea where this ghost is, but everything is quiet for the moment. Too quiet, you know from experience.

Making your way to the next doorway you stay low, listening, waiting. There are muffled cries from the kids and the mother, you glance into see them being put inside a salt circle by Dean. He looks up when the lady squeaks at seeing you, he meets your eyes and you nod, keeping your eyes moving over the room, looking for any sign of trouble.

You see it and it’s too late.

The air shimmers behind Dean, his attention on the family. You can’t make a sound in time, he won’t react fast enough so you act on instinct, rushing the short distance, shoving Dean to the floor, leaving you directly in the ghost’s way as it appears, attacking.

You can’t get the gun up fast enough, it’s cold nails digging into your shoulder, getting beneath the skin. You shriek in pain, struggling to get the gun up, failing miserably. You shoot somewhere to the side, rock salt missing its mark, and honestly you were just praying the spread was wide enough to knick it.

The son of a bitch tears into you again, wailing as it claws at you, only managing to scratch your face before it bursts into flames, screaming and smoking into nothing.

You lay there panting, letting yourself flop back against the floor, trying for a moment to catch your breath.

“Y/N?” Dean shouts, worried.

“I’m fine, just take care of them.” Your eyes flutter open, lungs pulling in one more deep breath before you rock up, straightening yourself out.

You inspect the claw marks under your torn shirt, they’re bleeding pretty good, soaking the fabric, but it’s nothing a bandage won’t fix. You lean back against the counter, watching as Dean takes to the mother, calming her down, telling her that they are fine now and they probably don’t want to run around saying a ghost had been haunting their house.

He takes one look at you and you know it’s time to go without him saying a word. You can feel the tension there, bubbling right below the surface. You know him too well not to notice the way his back is too straight, his shoulders are back too far, his neck is strained, jaw clenched.  Dammit.

You follow him to the front porch, down the stairs, out the drive to the Impala that is already waiting for you, Sam in the driver’s seat, the window down, “If you two look like that, I’d hate to see the ghost.”

It a joke, and normally you would laugh, but Dean just grunts, “Move over, I’m driving.”

Sam doesn’t argue, but glances over the seat to you as you crawl in the back. You shrug and roll your eyes.

He nods towards Dean, mouthing ‘What happened?’

You sigh, pointing at your shoulder. Sam nods, understanding and it is a very quiet and very long twenty-two minutes. Dean doesn’t even put the radio on, it’s just absolute darkness and silence except for the steady rumble of the engine.

You can see Sam hesitate when Dean throws the Impala roughly in park. It isn’t like Dean is dangerous, even if he was, you could take him, but Sam knows as well as you do how torn up he was the last time you got hurt and there is only two ways this could go with him. And considering the silent treatment, one is more likely.

You get out of the car first, stalking towards the room, mentally preparing yourself, trying to stay calm, but with every damn step your temper rises. And you can’t help it, you swing the door  open so hard it bounces and as soon as you are on the inside you spin, arms crossed, waiting.

Dean comes in, slamming the door behind him. His eyes meet yours and you stand your ground, “Alright, let’s have it.”

“Why the fuck would you get between me and that thing? Huh?”

“Because it was going to hurt you Dean, I’m not going to just let you get hurt.”

He rolls his eyes, “Yeah well great plan, just fucking awesome, because now you’re hurt instead.”

“Dean, I was just doing my damn job, what I do on every other freaking hunt we go on,” you try and reason with him, but honestly you can feel yourself getting more and more agitated.

He bites his lip hard, “That was fucking stupid, I told you to stay outside.”

“You don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.” You try to keep your voice even, “We have always been a team. It wasn’t like that before, nothing has changed.”

He throws up his hands, neck tightening as he tries not to shout, “Are you fucking kidding me? Ev-.”

“No,” you cut him off, shaking your head, “Nothing has changed with hunting. You said you wouldn’t ask me to stop.”

His jaw clenches, “I’m not, I just-.”

You lose it, walking towards him, your finger up, pointing, “No, you’re just going to fucking sideline me. I’m not going to be that girl, I’m not going to be here when you get home with a fucking sandwich and ask how your day we-.”

“I don’t want you to be that person!”

“Really? Because that is how you are acting. A year ago you never would have hesitated to have me go in that house with you!”

“Yes I would have Y/N! ”

“No you wouldn’t have, and now just because we are messing around-” you can’t stop the words in time, and you see it, see how it looks like you have just smacked him across the face, but you can’t take it back now.

“So now we are just messing around?” He snaps, and you can see the malice that your words have created.

“That’s not what I meant.” You try and reign in your tone.

“It’s what you said. So do you really actually feel anything or am I just how you are passing the time?”

“Goddammit Dean, don’t even start with that shit.”

“You’re the one who opened that door.” He towers over you.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that, you know how I feel.”

“Really? Because you didn’t want anything to do with me until I started getting you off.”

You don’t know what to say, your chest heaves, and you don’t think you can stop the tears. “Go back to fucking hell you fucking asshole.”

You push past him, rushing out the door, not even bothering to close it behind you as you run out into the night.


	13. Touch Starvation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your and Dean’s fight hits you hard, you don’t know how to fix it, you don’t know how to talk it out and now you have to work a case that hits a little too close to home.

The tears stream down your face, hot and messy, you don’t bother to brush them away. You don’t know where you were planning on going, your feet are stuck here in the dimly lit parking lot as your eyes search, brain on overdrive trying to think of something, anything to make this better. **  
**

A hand on your shoulder makes you fling around, scared, you hadn’t heard Sam walk up behind you, “Y/N?”

You don’t say anything, just wrap your arms around your friend and let him pull you against him as he tells you that everything is going to be alright.

His arms loosen and he pulls your face up, “Where are you going?”

“I-I don’t know,” you sob, the words tumbling out.

“Come on,” he wraps his arm around your shoulders, “nothing’s open now anyways.”

He guides you to the room five doors down from your and Dean’s. You just feel so empty and numb but hurt and raw at the same time. He pulls back a chair at the table, leaving you there and pouring a cup of coffee from the small pot.

Sam walks back, sitting across from you and sliding the cup across the table, “Here.”

“Thanks,” you choke, taking a sip and letting it burn the whole way down as you stare at the table, “You got any whiskey to go in it?”

You are half joking but Sam gets up, rummaging around in his bag, producing a half empty bottle and placing it in front of you. You unscrew the cap as he sits down, pouring some in until the cup is filled to the brim.

Sam stays quiet, watching you carefully until you pull your knees up to your chest and look him in they eye. He forces a smile, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You grimace, “I don’t know, I said some shit that I didn’t mean.”

“Just you did?”

You half laugh, rubbing the tears away from your cheeks, “He’s such a stubborn asshole sometimes.”

Sam nods, “So what happened?”

“We just got back from that hunt and he was pissed so I pissed and it just exploded. I mean we’ve had little spats before but not like this. And then it turned into how I don’t actually care about him and that apparently I’m just using him to get off…Sorry.” You grimace, realizing too late that Sam probably doesn’t want to hear that kind of stuff about his brother.

He shrugs, “It’s alright, it’s not like you and Dean try to hide it.”

“Yeah,” you hiccup, smiling to yourself, “I’m just not going to stop hunting and I thought he knew that.”

“He probably knows it, but-” Sam plays with his fingers, choosing his words carefully, “I can see how it’s hard to see someone you care about in danger.”

You sit back, huffing, “But you and Dean care about each other and he doesn’t care when you hunt. An-”

“It’s not the same thing.” Sam cuts you off, “It’s not, and it took him a long time to be okay with that. I think he might be just trying to not lose you.”

“I’ve been hunting all my life.” You argue, “I know what I’m doing.”

Sam smiles reassuringly, “I know you do, and it doesn’t make it right, but everything we have ever had, everything every hunter has ever had gets torn away, and usually it is really bloody. How would you feel if you lost him?”

You don’t have an answer you want to say, you can’t even imagine, just the thought of it makes you almost start crying again. You push it down, taking a sip of the spiked coffee.

“Why do you always gotta have the goddamn answers Sam?”

He laughs, “I don’t, I’m just pointing out what I see. Like I also think Dean knows you love him, he just has a hard time believing it. Just like I think you don’t always believe he loves you.”

Your first instinct is to get defensive, start arguing back, but you stay calm, “What?”

“You’re both insecure in different ways, and neither of you have ever had anything last past a weekend or two it’s new and new shit is scary and it sucks sometimes.”

You roll your eyes, but deep down you know it’s right, “I’m still pissed as hell at him.”

“I know,” he pats your forearm, “So if you want you can stay here tonight. I’m sure he’s still fuming too.”

You can’t help but laugh, you know he is. You know he is probably pacing a hole in the floor and torn something apart or broken something by now.

You finish your coffee, taking the still made bed, burying yourself under the covers. As soon as the lights are out you can’t help but start crying again, sleep never coming. You’re too upset, and Dean’s not here to make it better. He’s not here to make you feel safe and warm, instead you feel cold and the bed feels empty. You had almost forgotten what this is like.

____

At some point you must have dozed off because raised voices wake you. It’s Dean and Sam right outside the door. You rush, opening it and as soon as Dean sees you his jaw locks and he stops talking, avoiding looking you in the eye.

“Dean I-,”

“Just get your shit together, we need to roll out.”

You wince at his tone, biting your tongue, walking back to your room and grabbing your things. The lamp on the nightstand is shattered on the floor and everything is a mess.

The ride is quiet and you can see he’s in pain, but you are too and you don’t know what to do. You think you want to comfort him, but you don’t know if he wants that, and you are still too upset to know if that is what you actually want to do.

Sam asks him about the hunt and it is short answers. Shapeshifter- four dead - Kentucky.

You curl up against the window, pulling your knees to your chest and you can’t help the few stray tears that leak from the corner of your eye, or the shaky, sniffled breath as you try and keep your composure.

Luckily, it is only a three hour drive, and when you get to the motel you have no idea what to do. Dean doesn’t either, just stands there awkwardly while you talk to the old man behind the desk. You decide two rooms, handing Sam one key, taking the other, leaving it up to Dean where to go. He follows his brother into the room adjacent from yours. Dammit.

God, you just want to touch him, you want him to touch you. You hadn’t realize how used to it you were, him brushing against you, his hand on the small of your back, how you slip your hand into his and squeeze. This needs to be fixed, but you don’t know where to start.

You sit on your laptop on the bed, it resting on your thighs as you read through news report after news report, rereading them two or three times because you can’t focus.

_What if he had meant it?_

_What if this couldn’t be fixed?_

_What if he didn’t want to fix it?_

_Did Dean even want you anymore?_

_Did you lose your best friend?_

It spirals and spirals until you can’t stop crying, sliding the laptop to the mattress and laying on your side, curling into a ball, trying to hold yourself together.

___

Your eyes are red and puffy the next morning and you don’t have the energy to try to hide it with makeup. Sam had sent you a text last night letting you know that you were going to go interview the boyfriend early in the morning.

But Dean is the only one at the car when you get there.

He’s quiet for a moment, “Didn’t think you were going to show up.”

You roll your eyes, snapping unintentionally, “I told you I wasn’t being benched. We’ve got a job to do, let’s do it.”

“So you just want to work?” He shoots back.

You huff, shaking your head, “No Dean, I want to save the people that we can, I want to do what I’m good at.”

“Awesome,” he shakes his head, annoyed.

God you want to tell him to fuck off, “Could you not be an asshole?”

“Yeah, right about the time you stop being stubborn.” And that little shot almost makes you forget that you are fighting with him, it almost makes you smile, but you’re too tired and crabby.

_____

“You want to know the worst part?” Chad says, face contorted in pain, “I was pissed off the last time I saw her, I yelled at her and-and…”

Sam shoves a box of tissues across the table towards him. You and the boys all know the last thing he saw, that he yelled at wasn’t his girlfriend, it was the shifter right before it hauled off and robbed two gas stations.

“And I keep wondering if I would have done something different if she wouldn’t have gone and done that…”

She had probably been dead for days, but the body had turned up in a dumpster, overdose. Police ruled it suicide, but you knew better.

Dean’s eyes meet yours across the table, an unknown emotion and you have to look away, the guy’s story hitting too close to home considering your recent predicament and it is killing you, and you can’t control yourself how you normally do.

“I apologize, please excuse me,” you leave halfway through the interview, the tension was going to tip off the grieving boyfriend and the hunt wasn’t worth ruining, they were the only lead.

You lean against the Impala, kicking your heel off the pavement impatiently, the tap somehow settling you down. You don’t know what to do, you can’t keep going like this, can’t keep it up. You can’t stand fighting with him, you can’t handle him being mad at you, you can’t handle being mad at him.

You don’t want to be pissed anymore, but you don’t know how to start that conversation.

The doors of the apartment building swing open, Sam and Dean striding out. Dean refuses to meet your eyes and Sam gives you a halfhearted smile.

“Where are we off to?” You question, opening your door and sliding into the back seat.

“Well the thing keeps grabbing girls in their early twenties, turning into them and then robbing low level places, so I got nothing.” Dean grumbles.

You sigh, racking your brain, “Well what if we look at missing person reports or ones that haven’t been missing the forty-eight hours yet but their family and friends are calling?”

“Alright, why don’t you and Sam take that and I will track down this last girl’s friends?” His voice is low and detached.

“Okay,” you whisper, your voice cracking a little. Dean looks over his shoulder, but you don’t meet his eyes, just stare out the window as he revs the engine and pulls out onto the empty street.

____

“I’ve got something!” After four hours of reading through scribbles, you pull out the notepad page from one of the cops that had been answering phones yesterday, “Well, not exactly, but maybe.”

“You gonna share?” Sam asks, setting down the notebook he had been going through.

“So this guy goes missing, yesterday. His girlfriend calls it in, but I was looking into her and she had just came back from the hospital after fighting the last victim off.”

“So what?”

“It was a day after that chick was supposed to be dead. And the boyfriend works for a bank.”

Sam sits back in his chair, “So the shifter is upping its game?”

You shrug, “Maybe the score isn’t big enough anymore and it wants to go after some real cash?”

“It is worth a shot, I can keep looking if you want to go interview her.”

“Yeah,” you gather up your jacket, still in your fed clothes, “I will call if I find anything. We still don’t know where this thing is hiding out at.”

“I can pull sewer layouts from the county office, I should be able to catch them before they close.”

“If not you would just break in anyways.” You laugh, walking out to the front offices and asking one of the deputies for a ride to the address you had pulled.

____

“Why do you think your boyfriend is missing?” You ask the blonde girl, Ainsley, who sits in the dining room chair across from you.

She sniffles a little, covering it up with a laugh, “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“Everyone is,” you offer, joking, trying to get her to open up.

She brushes her hair back, laughing a little more, “He left that night because we fought right?” Jesus Christ, not another couple fighting, this was going to kill you, “But he always takes a walk around the block and comes back with a cup of coffee for each of us. And he didn’t.”

“Can I ask what you were fighting about?”

“I didn’t call him for a ride and I walked home the night I got attacked. I don’t think he was actually mad, he was just upset that he couldn’t do anything about me ending up in the hospital, you know?”

“Yeah,” you swallow hard, “Yeah, I think I get that.”

“But he won’t return my calls, and they won’t do the missing persons report because he hasn’t been missing long enough and he texted me yesterday and-.”

“Hold on, he texted you? The officer didn’t say that.”

“Yeah,” she nods quickly, turning and digging in her purse on the chair next to her, “Um, here we go…And he never just sends ‘I’m fine’, it’s not like him.”

She shows you the text, her phone filled with the ones of her asking for him to answer her.

“Can I have this? For just a few minutes, I have to make a call to one of my partners.”

“You believe me?” She whispers.

“Yes.” You grab the phone and walk out into the hall, dialing Sam on your own.

“Y/N?”

“Can you trace a number for me, the shifter answered her on her boyfriends phone. I wonder if he was dumb enough to leave it on.”

“Read it off…”

You prattle off the number, waiting while Sam works his magic. He’d tried to show you how to do it once or twice but you didn’t have the patience.

“There isn’t a current location, it’s off-”

“Or underground,” you interject.

“Or underground…Last location was 5th and Jefferson, which get this, runs along the same mainline as four of the robberies, and the bank.”

“Awesome.” You respond, excitement of the lead filling you, “Can you meet me there?”

“I can in about forty minutes, you are closer. Call Dean, he is only five or six blocks from there when he called a few minutes ago.”

“Okay.” you concied, hanging up. Instead of calling though, you text Dean the street names, telling him to meet you there in ten minutes.

You rush back into the room, thanking Ainsley, giving her the bureau spiel, that they will be in touch.

It doesn’t take you six minutes to get there but Dean is already waiting, leaning against the Impala.

“Here,” he hands you a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and your gun, “There is a bathroom in the bar on the corner.”

“Thanks Dean.”

He gives you a stiff nod, swallowing hard. You take off quickly, back in a few minutes, gun shoved down the back of your pants as you follow him to the manhole, using a crowbar to pry it  up, Dean rolling it to the side.

“So who wants to go down the dark tunnel of death first?” You crack.

Dean half smiles, “I will, here…” He hands you a flashlight that you hold over his head until you hear the soft splash as he steps onto the floor.

You make the descent quickly, jumping the last few rungs, landing with a thump beside him, pulling your gun out, “Okay, let’s go.”

Dean lets you take point, following only a step behind. It takes awhile, it is dark and dirty, grimy and smelly. You come to a fourway, you shining your flashlight down the one in front, Dean to the left.

You take a breath, flipping the flashlight to the right, seeing the retinal reflection at the same time you see the muzzle flash followed by the deafening crack.

“Y/N!” Dean’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you away as the shifter points the gun and squeezes the trigger again. The bullet ricochets off the cement, but not before your hear it cut the air right above your shoulder, the burn as it brushes by your skin.

Dean says something but you don’t register it as you fall back with him into the dirty water, eyes focusing on the shifter aiming again and you can’t get to your damn gun. Dean rolls over you, pinning you under him, protecting you as the gun goes off, Dean flinching and grunting.

“Dean!” You scream in horror, the fear overwhelming you. Suddenly the last few days don’t matter, the anger fades away into pure panic, your heart beating frantically in your chest as you try to comprehend what is happening.

“Dean!” You try and move his weight, but he pulls away on his own, grunting low and holding his side. The low water splashes as you struggle in the dim light to see where it hit him, how bad it is.

You are so absorbed that you don’t see the shifter coming until it grabs you and flings you back. You reached out, grabbing its arm at the last moment, holding on and dragging him with you to the ground.

“Y/N!” Dean shouts, but you can barely hear him over the splashing and the short pants coming from both you and the shifter. You grab its face, digging your thumb into its eye as it tries to shove your face under the water, barely able to keep your nose above it.

You try to get out from under it, pulling your knee up again and again, pummeling its side. Then suddenly the weight is gone and you take in a sharp breath.

Dean slams its head off the cement ledge with one hand, a sickening crack filling the air but that doesn’t seem to stop it, only slow it down as it wails in pain. It swings, making contact with Dean’s side and he crumbles, stumbling back.

You scramble, wrapping your arms around its legs as it goes after Dean, tripping it up and it tumbles to the ground, yelling, hissing, fucking making sounds that you’ve never heard. But you can’t let it get to Dean, you can’t let it hurt him.

Two shots ring through the air, hurting your ears and scaring you shitless. You look wildly, only to find Sam standing there, gun still raised. You have no idea where he came from, but you have never been happier to see him.

Your eyes fall from him to Dean, arm wrapped around himself, his entire body heaving as he breathes, but his eyes are on you, worried.

You push yourself up, closing the distance between you, gimping a little, body hurting where you had slammed into the concrete. You don’t say a word, just pull his hand from his side, tearing the fabric back so you can see the bullet wound. You notice right away that there is no exit hole, and this awful realization falls over you that where it is, had you been where you had been and Dean hadn’t rolled you, it would have been fatal.

You have to push down the tears, swallowing hard as multitudes of emotions  wash over you. The anger is there again, he’d gotten between you and the shifter, but he saved your life. And you’re worried, and sick to your stomach, and mad at yourself for being mad at him, and pissed at him for going and doing the same damn thing you were arguing about in the first place.

“Sam?” You choke out.

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to need some help.”

“I’m fine,” Dean rasps, “let’s just get the hell outta Dodge.”

“The fuck you are.” You snap, a tear spilling over.

“I’ll be fine sweetheart. I’ve had worse.” And if you hadn’t been so confused right now, so caught up in every emotion rushing through you, you would have realized he was teasing, repeating your words back to you. You would have realized that is the first time he’s called you sweetheart since your fight, but dammit, you don’t because you can’t get past the fact that there was a bullet lodged in him because of you.

“Fine! Fix it yourself,” you throw your hands up, backing away, refusing to look at him as you walk away, stepping around the shifter’s body as you head out of the sewer.

You struggle up the ladder and out of the manhole, vaguely aware of the boys voices behind you, that noise only pushing you to move faster.

Streetside you pick up a jog, slipping down an ally, finding an old car that you break into and using it to get you back to the motel. But you don’t really remember the drive, just the road muddled through the tears.

____

You get out of the shower, slipping your boyshorts and a t-shirt on, falling into the deep chair in the corner of the room. You are so exhausted, your brain constantly moving in self deprecating circles and the cryin taking a toll on you.

The door opens but you don’t care, you barely have the energy to look up. Dean’s green eyes meet yours, and they are red, tired and bloodshot, “Y/N?”

You look away curling your body up more as he walks over to you, standing a little more than arms length, unsure, “Y/N, please talk to me.”

You shake your head, not trusting yourself enough to speak.

He kneels down, moving close, his hand gripping your knee, “Sweetheart, we need to fix this. I can’t do this another night.”

The tears fall, thinking the worst, “You don’t want to be with me anymore, huh?”

“Fuck sweetheart, no,” He hand finds your cheek, brushing the tears away with his thumb. And God that simple touch, that skin on skin contact after not having it for three days makes your heart flutter, “I meant I can’t go to sleep angry and alone again, I can’t, we need to work this out.”

“Dean-”

“I’m serious Y/N, we aren’t going to bed until we are good.”

You nod, sniffling, “I’m not going to stop hunting. I’m not going to just let you get hurt.”

He sighs, “I know, okay? I don’t want you to, but-,” he struggles with the words, “I don’t like seeing you in danger.”

“Our job is dangerous Dean!”

“Yeah,” you can tell he is struggling to keep his voice even, “but I can’t see you get hurt like last time again. That’s the second time I’ve had to fix you up like that, and I thought you were dead and I can’t-,” he swallows hard, trailing off.

“So what about when I have to fix you up? You literally took a fucking bullet for me tonight.”

“Guess you know I’m serious about us then, huh?” He half smiles, trying to make a joke out of it but falling silent, exhaling slowly.

You take a deep breath, “I get it okay? But it’s what we do.”

His eyes meet yours, “I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” you cup his chin, “We work way better together, we make a hell of a team.”

He chuckles, turning so he can press his lips to the palm of your hand. You can tell he’s tired too, tired of trying to stay mad, of fighting what you both know, that you are both hunters and life isn’t always easy, but at the very least you have each other.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, knowing you have a couple of things to apologize for too, “I didn’t mean what I said about us messing around, I wanted to take it back the second I said it. You mean way more to me than that.”

He winces a little, chewing the inside of his cheek, “Yeah, I just, I-…” You think back, think to his words ‘ Because you didn’t want anything to do with me until I started getting you off’

“You’ve loved me for a long time haven’t you?” Your words ring clear between the both of you, and Dean’s eyes shoot up to meet yours. You can see the fear there, the nervousness, the hesitation.

“Dean, I-I’m not just messing around here, you have to know that you mean so much more to me than that,” you put your hands on either side of his face, uncurling your legs. His hands wander up your thighs to your sides as you pull him closer, pressing your lips against his. He isn’t going to say it outloud, but you know it is true.

He moves between your knees and you wrap yourself around him, legs around his waist, arms around his neck as his lips find your, kissing you softly. Your fingers tangle in his hair, “I’m sorry Dean, I love you because you are you and I don’t want that to ever change. Even when you piss me off, I still love you, no matter what.”

He pulls back a little, smiling softly, “Yeah, I love you too sweetheart, even when you are a stubborn little shit.”

You can’t help but laugh, especially with that joking little smirk that crosses his lips. He peppers kisses over your face until you giggle, catching his face between your hands. He sighs, “I don’t want you to change either, you know that, right? I just want you to be safe.”

You nod, a tear sliding from the corner of your eye, “I know.”

“Good,” He brushes your hair back from your face, taking the stray tear with it. Dean leans forward, kissing you slowly, taking his time. You get lost in it, get lost in him, memorizing every little touch, every way he moves. Not that you didn’t know all of this before, just now you don’t ever want to forget.

“How’s your side?” you ask as your fingers work at the top button of his shirt.

“Here,” He pulls away, slipping the shirt and his t-shirt over his head, leaning back and turning so you can see the bandage, “It’s not too bad, pulled it right out.”

“You’re going to hurt tomorrow,” you mumble, brushing the nearby skin with your fingertips, seeing the bruising that has already began to blacken, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have walked out like that. I was scared.”

“I know sweetheart,” he cups your cheek, “It’s okay.”

You let out a breath that you hadn’t known you had been holding, meeting his olive eyes that are now unguarded and soft and you know everything is going to be okay, you two are going to be okay.

He presses his lips to yours, but moves on, kissing your cheek, your jaw, down your neck to your collarbone, his hands running over any part of your body that he can touch.

Your body shakes under his warm hands, these few days all it had taken for you to miss him. But it was more than a physical longing, you guys had gone weeks without getting it on before, but three days of fighting, three days of no touches or small kisses, no hands brushing over one another made you feel like you were starved for him.

His fingers hook through your panties, tugging them from under ass and down your legs, tossing them to the side. His fingers grip your thighs, moving up and then under, pulling you down, lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders. And he doesn’t say a word, doesn’t need to as he holds your eyes with his.

He doesn’t break that eye contact, not as he leans forward, his tongue dipping into your folds. Its this trance, this little spell, this energy between the two of you, no words can ever describe how you feel but you both know it.

He opens his mouth, covering your entrance and clit, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud then sucking lightly. You moan, your hands searching desperately for his as his lips move against your pussy. His hands find yours, fingers lacing through, gripping your small fingers in his, holding onto you.

Your fingers clench around his in time with the fluttering of your pussy. His tongue dips into your core and your head falls back, eyes closing, hips rising to push against him.

Dean withdraws, eliciting a needy whine from your lips as he kisses your inner thigh, “Look at me baby.”

You struggle, forcing your eyes open, his green eyes intent on you, looking up through his lashes. You can feel it, the adoration, the intensity, the love there and you can’t help but start trembling against him, “Oh god.”

“Shh,” he mumbles against your skin as his mouth covers you again, alternating between small licks and soft sucks, then his teeth brushing against your clit and his tongue thrusting into you. The sweat breaks out over your skin, your hips roll against his mouth and still your eyes never leave each other’s.

Your pussy flutters, Dean sucking at your juices, your nails digging into his hands. He grumbles something against you, the vibrations making your thighs tighten around his ears. Your back arches as he works your clit, sending you over the edge into oblivion.

And God, you want to keep looking at him, watch the way he keeps moving his mouth against you, drawing out your orgasm, but you can’t, not as your muscles clench and your body stiffens.

“Dean,” you whimper, holding onto him, your eyes pressed shut, his lips pressing kisses all over your lower body as you shake and tremble, “Dean.”

You don’t know what you are trying to say, but he seems to understand, allowing your legs to fall from his shoulders as he leans forward, wrapping his arms around you, his lips crashing against yours. He radiates warmth and strength and sureness and it’s everything you need.

You wrap your legs around his waist, he winces as your leg pushes into his side, “Oh shit Dean, I’m sorry.”

He grimaces, shaking his head as it turns into a soft smile, and he cups your cheek, “It’s okay…Just no crazy rodeo tonight, alright there cowgirl?” Dean winks, suppressing the laugh.

You can’t help it, laughing. Just like that, you guys are back to normal, back to Y/N and Dean. You can’t help but joke back,  “I’ll take it easy on you but I still plan to go full cowgirl.”

He chuckles, rocking back on his heels and standing, hauling you up with him, your front pressed against his, “If I didn’t know better Y/N, I’d say you’re getting a little bossy.”

“Am not.” You scoff.

He leans down, nipping at the skin right below your ear, “I kinda like it.”

You laugh, “Shut up and get on the damn bed.”

He takes a step back and raises his hands, “See. Bossy.”

You roll your eyes as he drops his jeans and boxers, backing up and sitting on the edge of the bed, his cock hard against his stomach as he watches you intently. And even though you were joking a minute ago and it was light and fun the reality of the last few days hits you, how much you are used to him, how big a part of your life he is now, how much you love him, how much you need him.

“Sweetheart?” His voice is soft, bringing you back to this room, back to him.

“Dean I-I’m so sorry,” your voice shakes as you close the distance between you.

His hands immediately find you, grabbing your elbows, pulling you to him, “I know sweetheart, me too.”

He lays back, pulling you with him as he scoots up the bed, you crawling over him, carefully avoiding his side. You kiss him as he settles back, your hair falling over his face and your lips move against his until your lungs scream for air.

When you are able to breathe, it comes in short, shallow gasps, “I missed you, so much.”

“Shh,” he brushes your hair away from your face, craning up to press his lips to yours, “Listen, I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

He waits for you to nod before he continues, his finger pointing at your chest, “I need you and I love you.”

“I love you too, more than anything,” you whisper, letting your forehead rest against his, your eyes falling shut, the tension leaving your body. And it’s the damn truth and it’s out there now, in the open.

His lips find yours again, his hands wandering over your body as your tongues dance against one another. His arms hold you tight to him, like he’s never going to let go.

You pull away to catch your breath, sitting up, reaching between you, fingers wrapping around his cock. His head falls back against the pillows, his lips parting as he sucks in a breath. You line him up with your core, sinking down on him slowly, obscene moans coming from you both.

You take him fully, feeling the slow stretch, the familiarity of it as he throbs within you, his chest heaving as he watches. His hands reach for you and you fall forward, balancing yourself on his chest as you rock your hips slowly.

Dean grunts low, his eyes fixed on your face as he sucks his swollen bottom lip between his teeth. His arms wrap around you, holding you so tight you can barely move, just grind your hips against his. But it is more than enough, that slight in and out, the brush and push of him inside you makes everything stand on edge, makes you feel like you are whole and falling to pieces at the same time.

His hips meet your movements, thrusting slowly as you both draw in ragged breaths, giving sloppy kisses in between needy moans and whimpers.

“Y/N,” he groans against your lips, needy and desperate. And you can’t help but bury your face against his neck, the way he says your name going straight to your core, making your pussy clench.

You kiss his neck as you move faster and more erratic in his arms, each drag of his cock setting your skin on fire, making it burn right in your lower stomach, driving you to insanity, “Dean.”

He grunts, holding you tight and moving fast, rolling you underneath him. He holds still for a moment, eyes searching, taking you in, filled with an emotion that you can’t quite place.

You reach up, touching his face and he leans into it, closing his eyes then bending, kissing the inside of your arm. His lips travel over the skin, over your collarbone, leaving little ghost kisses, so light you don’t know if it is really him or your imagination filling in the blanks.

Dean pulls almost all the way out before moving hips hips slowly, pushing back into you inch by agonizingly slow inch, making you whimper and writhe underneath him. He repeats the motion again and again until you can’t think straight, can’t focus.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and he lets you pull him down to you, burying your faces against each others necks as he picks up an even pace that stokes the fire that has been there the entire time.

You pant, feeling his thrust becoming erratic as your pussy squeezes around him, “Please Dean.”

“I’m right here with you sweetheart, I always will be.” He whispers, his hand sliding between you and brushing your clit with his fingertips, the unexpected contact sending a jolt through your body, pushing you over the edge.

You’re quiet as it overtakes you, you fingers digging into his skin as you press your face against him, biting your bottom lip as you whine. He thrusts into you hard, cock jumping, throbbing, spurting inside you and you love the feeling of him, love the sounds, the soft grunts of your name as he comes, trembling on top of you.

Your fingers tangle in his damp hair, tugging it lightly as they run through it, holding him close as you both struggle to breathe, your pussy still clenching slowly around him.

He kisses your skin, up your neck, little, lazy kisses until his lips find yours. You kiss him, short kiss after short kiss until he smiles and you giggle.

“C’mere,” he mumbles, wrapping an arm under you, pulling you to your side, facing him, nose to nose. He shifts his hips, his soft cock slipping from you and you can’t help but whine low at the loss.

Dean smiles, pressing his lips to yours in this long, languid kiss that makes you forget everything but him.

Eventually he pulls away, his thumb rubs your cheek, warm against your skin, “I don’t ever want to fight like that again.”

“We’re going to, it’s going to happen.” You can’t help but be realistic about it. You know you are both far from perfect. You’re both impulsive, both unsure, both with your own past and a little shared one too.

“Fine, but I’m not doing that again. We get it out and we fix it, we don’t go to sleep until it’s fixed and we’re good.”

You smile, nodding, “Deal.”

He lets his forehead rest against yours, “Good, because I have been getting zero fucking sleep. I’m too used to being about thirty degrees too hot.”

You scoff, “I don’t throw off that much heat.”

“The hell you don’t.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, well atleast I don’t have ice cold feet. Like seriously, I think I might get frostbite one of these nights.”

“Ouch.” He laughs, tangling his legs with yours and pulling you close, “You’re so damn mean.”

“Shut the hell up,” you laugh, burying your face in his neck, you’re body shaking with his. God you had missed him, missed this, and you’re never going to let it go.


	14. Role Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean suggests a kink that leaves you deep in an early memory of the two of you

Dean sets a bottle of beer down in front of you and slides onto the seat next to you, smiling, “There ya go.”

“Thanks,” your smile grows, leaning over and kissing his cheek. He cups your chin before you can pull away, holding you in place as he presses his lips to yours, kissing you deeply, damn anybody who is watching.

He pulls away, just barely, that smug, flirty smirk plastered on his face, “You’re welcome.”

You shake your head, blushing, taking a sip of your beer as you take in the bar. It is a Friday night and the place is just packed for a bar in a no name town.

You set the bottle back on the table, glancing at Dean, catching him staring intently but he doesn’t shy away when your eyes meet his. You half laugh, “What?”

He shakes his head, taking a long, drawn out sip from his beer, never taking his eyes off you, “Trying to figure out why I didn’t do this sooner.”

You avert your eyes, a soft smile playing at your lips, “You mean why you didn’t start doin’ me sooner?”

He laughs, his whole body shaking, “Yeah, Christ I’m a dumbass.”

You roll your eyes, “It’s not like we’ve known each other for forever or anything.” Forever might be an exaggeration, you’d met them probably about seven or eight years prior the first time. You were working the same case, of course, you both didn’t know you were hunters hunting the same exact thing, not until a few weeks later when you ran into each other again.

“Or that you’ve been bumming a ride off of us for four years.”

“Has it really been that long?” You ask, brow scrunching, trying to think back to the time you tagged along for a hunt and never left.

“Yeah,” he sighs, half laughing, “that’s hard to believe.”

You lean forward, resting your elbows on the table, doing the mental math, “So then like seven months for us?”

“Eight,” he chuckles.

“Not that you are counting or anything.” You tease, bumping his leg with your knee.

“I’m never going to forget that night, not anytime soon,” he grins, meeting your eyes again. God he made you happy, especially in little moments like these.

“Would you do it any different?” You ask quietly.

“Yes.” He says without hesitation, rubbing your thigh when he sees your confused expression, “I wouldn’t have waited that long. I would have sacked up the first night I met you.”

You giggle, “Except the first night we met we didn’t even know each other’s real names.”

“Kinky.” He chuckles low and you have to roll your eyes, “Oh come on, FBI Agent and Reporter hook up talking a case, could happen. And you did tell me your first name that night.”

You pick up your bottle again, “I don’t know, sounds like the start of a really bad porno…” you clear your throat, doing your best girly, breathy voice, “ ‘oh no Agent, you’ve found me at this closed crime scene, whatever am I to do?’.”

He starts howling but quickly composes himself, “I don’t know if I can let this one slide Miss,” he leans in and whispers in your ear, “you’ve been a very bad girl.”

Any semblance of control you have breaks, you double over, stomach hurting you are laughing so hard.

Dean watches, eyes bright, chuckling at your amusement, “I take it role play is out of the running.”

“Dean,” you hold your stomach, trying to stop laughing, tears coming from your eyes, “I don’t think we could make it five minutes without busting a gut. I mean, I’m not getting all dressed up in some dirty maid outfit, it’s not happening.”

“Okay, so let’s do the first night.”

“Are you serious?” You question, unsure.

“I mean,” he shrugs, “they are both people we ‘play’ often…Don’t think I haven’t caught you checking me out in my fed suit. And you are smokin in those librarian glasses. Mmm.”

“Is everything porn with you?”

“Duh,” he teases, kissing your neck before sitting back.

You cross your legs, looking Dean, taking him in, “Alright…but you have like ten minutes before we toss it out the window and have sex anyways.”

“Win-win.” He smiles, looking over your shoulder, “C’mon, there’s a pool table opening up. Play ya for top?”

“That’s not fair for you.”

He laughs, grabbing your hand, “I’m pretty sure I win either way with that one too sweetheart.”

____

Your hair is up in a messy bun, the designer looking glasses with the fake lenses sitting on your face. You look in the mirror one last time, adjusting the blouse forth the ninth time, tucking it into your pants nervously, fidgeting “I look like a fucking idiot.”

You pull the jacket off the chair, grabbing your purse before heading out the door, your heels clicking off the cheap floor. This was such a stupid idea, and honestly you looked like some grad student that hid in a library and got straight A’s, it is ridiculous.

You walk the three blocks to the bar, turning your collar up against the wind, praying you can pull this off. You don’t think you are very imaginative or creative, so role playing has never been one on the list you were excited for, just open to trying. You were open to trying just about anything with Dean.

As you open the door, the warm air hitting your face, you are psyching yourself out: this is stupid, you are stupid, you are going to ruin this. How are you even going to get through five minutes?

You take a seat at the bar, getting comfy in the seat, trying to maybe, kinda look sexy as the bartender comes over and asks you what you want to drink.

“I- uh, a be-,” but then you half laugh, remembering, “Changed my mind. What about an old fashioned?”

“Sure thing.” She says, going and making your drink. You shift back and forth on the stool, letting it swivel a little until it stops suddenly, someone standing behind you.

“Miss Lane, right?”

It all comes back.

* * *

_You turn quickly, looking into these intense green eyes, almost spilling the drink the bartender had just set in front of you. Shit, you didn’t need some fed breathing down your neck here, not now, “Uh-Agent, was it Freely?”_

_“Yeah…You can just call me Dean,” He gives you a small, flirty smile, glancing over your face quickly, then to your drink, “Mind if I join?”_

_“Uh,” you glance nervously around, trying to figure out an escape, not seeing one, “Yeah, I guess.”_

_You look anywhere but at him._

* * *

His eyes hold yours, yours hold his confidently, “Well Dean, what are you drinking?”

He glances to the bartender who is staring at him, maybe a little too long, but it doesn’t bother you, “I’ll take a whiskey, and I’ve got the next round too.”

“Aren’t you guys not allowed to drink on the clock or something?” You tease, remembering being unsure if he would take it as a joke.

“I’m off the clock sweetheart.”

* * *

_He takes a sip, adding, “Gives me time for other things.”_

_You shake your head, half laughing. Figures, cocky as hell, not enough brains to go with it. So you press, seeing what you can come up with, you don’t have much to go on for this hunt yet, “Do you guys know what you are looking at yet? Serial killer? Copy cat?”_

_He smirks, glancing at the bartender before his eyes fall back to you, “Can’t disclose that information.”_

_“Alright hot shot, we will see after a couple drinks.” You mumble, just loud enough that he catches it._

* * *

“Alright there smarty pants, what do you got?”

You smirk, at ease as you sit back in your seat, posture open, “Can’t tell you my sources.”

You finish off your drink as he looks you up and down, “You ever going to tell me your first name?”

* * *

_“Wasn’t planning on it.” You blush deeply, playing with the stirring straw._

_“How about another drink and you tell me?” He cocks his head to the side, watching you carefully._

_God you just want out of this, yeah he is good looking as hell but you have a job to do. Maybe in any other town on any other night you would give him half a chance- no, that was a lie. You didn’t go for guys like him and the only reason he is talking to you is because he thinks you know something he doesn’t. And you do, you know it is a small group of vampires, but you aren’t about to tell a fed that. You like being on this side of a jail cell, or a padded room._

* * *

You glance behind you as you finish your drink, a pool table opening up, “Alright, you get the drink and I will play you for it.”

He laughs, “Seriously?”

You nod, “Yeah, you win, you get my first name.”

“Deal,” he smirks confidently.

“You don’t want to know what happens if you lose?” You ask, curious. Now you really knew how to play, it’s almost like someone who knew what they were doing taught you.

“Oh sweetheart, I play to win.”

* * *

_You roll your eyes as you get up. So yeah, even if he is pretty good, you don’t lose, not at pool. You may lack confidence everywhere else, at anything else, but not at this. You weren’t the best ever, but you were a hell of a lot better than anyone you usually run into, and certainly better than some stiff in a suit._

_“Alright, rack ‘em.”_

* * *

He takes off his jacket, leaving it on the chair, rolling up the sleeves of his stark white shirt while you grab a cue, chalking the end.

Dean steps around the table, gathering the balls between his forearms, crashing them against the edge to make a makeshift triangle. You can’t help but notice how muscled his forearms are as he sorts the balls within the triangle quickly. He’s built, he’s handsome and every girl in the bar is sneaking glances. And even though you know it is pretend, you are suddenly filled with this inkling of self doubt, how did a man like that ever end up with a girl like you? Why did he want you that first night?

He removes the triangle, his eyes coming up to meet yours, a smile playing at his lips, “Ladies first.”

You move slowly around the table, glancing down, thinking this through, taking a deep breath. You line up, sliding the cue over your knuckles once then twice, the third time letting it strike.

He moves closer to you, watching carefully as a solid pockets, keeping it your turn. You take a step to the side he’s on, lining up your next shot for a corner pocket.

He leans on the table next to you, the clean smell invading your senses, “Didn’t anyone ever teach you any better than to make that shot?”

* * *

_He’s standing on the other side of the table, hands resting in his pockets, eyes focused on you, eyebrow cocked._

_“No, why wouldn’t I take it?”_

_He shrugs, “Not the one I would take.”_

_You look over the table, checking again, pretty sure it’s not overly risky, but this guy is making you second guess yourself._

_You take the shot you were originally going to take, pocketing it with ease. You glance up, a surprised little smile playing on the stranger’s face, “Alright then.”_

_You get in two more before you miss, Dean stepping up as you take a step out of his way, leaning on the pole, watching._

_He glances up at you through his  lashes, lining up his shot, “You travel a lot then?”_

_“Yeah,” you shrug, “gotta go where the murders are.”_

_He laughs, pocketing a ball, moving to the other side of the table, “So a blood and guts girl?”_

_“The bloodier the better.”_

* * *

Dean steps around behind you, his frame towering over yours. He leans down, moving the cue a couple inches, shifting your attention to a more rewarding shot. But his warm breath that fans over the back of your neck distracts you more than anything.

“Two for one sweetheart.”

You suck in a deep breath, but he doesn’t move. He isn’t touching you, maybe it would be easier to focus if he were, but him just right there, that was settling between your legs.

Fuck you miss, too distracted.

“Better luck next time,” he chuckles, lining up to take his shot. You stay on your side of the table, leaning forward, glad you had opted not to button that last one.

He swallows hard, looking at you, taking a deep breath, bending down and trying to focus. He makes it, standing up straight, but not smiling, his face hard in concentration. Alright, game on.

* * *

_He misses an easy shot, and you half think he did it on purpose, but the disappointed look on his face says otherwise._

_You smile to yourself, the set up way too easy, he’s not going to get another turn if you can help it._

_You clear the table easily, one steady shot after the next, your confidence growing and you’re sure that the drinks aren’t hurting either. And as you sink the black eight ball, you look up slowly, Dean sighing, “Well shit.”_

_You let out a small giggle, “Do you want to try again?”_

_“Well I never found out what happens when I lose.” He moves closer, gathering up the stuff to set up for another round._

_“You pay for the next round,” you tease, grabbing the triangle to rack again._

* * *

“Fuck,” you hiss, missing an easy shot. You’ve never played pool this bad, ever.

Dean’s eyes crinkle around the edges, “Gotta play better than that if you want to win.”

As he passes you, his hand brushes over the small of your back, making you go rigid. He knows exactly what he did, a shit eating grin plastered on his face as he takes his winning shot, “So am I getting a name?”

You chew on your bottom lip, “Two out of three there Agent?”

He closes the space between you, his face dipping, his front backing you against the table, just barely touching you, “I don’t think that was the deal there Miss Lane.”

His voice is low and it makes your skin buzz. But you are determined, you are going to keep in this charade, “Do we really need names for where this is going?”

“Jesus fuck,” he growls, hand coming up to cup your cheek, his lips crashing against yours, pushing your back against the table, his mouth needy against your own.

“C’mon,” he grabs your hand, hauling you behind him through the bar and outside, the cool air hitting you as he heads towards the black classic car.

“Nice car,” you comment, right before he spins you and pushes you back against the metal, his hips pinning you there, his hardening cock pressing through the slacks and against your stomach.

His mouth finds yours again, breaths coming in short pants that make the fake glasses fog up. He pulls away too soon, leaving you desperate for more, reaching behind you and opening the door, “I’ve got a room.”

* * *

_You bust out laughing, “Seriously? You and your brother actually did that?”_

_“Not embellishing one bit,” he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling._

_“Sounds like you two have quite the adventures.”_

_“Yeah,” he nods, finishing off the last of his drink, “What about you?”_

_You shake your head, “It’s just a sob story no worse than anyone else’s.”_

_“No family?”_

_You shake your head, signaling for another drink, “Died a long time ago.”_

_“Sorry,” and you see it, that apologetic look._

_You shrug, “It’s been forever. I wish I would have known what I know now. Might have stopped it from happening.”_

_“Is that why the investigative reporting?”_

_You don’t answer right away, kind of staring off, thinking about hunting and then realizing you are sitting here with a nice guy who doesn’t know any of that, “Yeah, I don’t know, I guess.”_

_He seems to sense you change in mood, and he bumps your elbow, “No boyfriend that’s going to storm in here either?”_

_“Oh yeah, he is so going to kick your ass,” you say as sarcastically as you can manage._

_Dean picks up on it, laughing, “Oh, he can go right ahead and try.”_

_“No, uh, living on the road sucks, and it’s hard to find people who share that - um - passion with you, I guess,” you trail off, a little embarrassed, covering it up with a sip of your drink._

_“I get that,” he nods as the bartender yells last call._

_You glance down at your watch, “I didn’t even realize it was that late.”_

_“Well, I mean, you didn’t stop talking,” he teases and you shake your head, laughing._

_“Shh over there.” You get up, pushing your stool in and grabbing your coat, Dean following close behind you._

_It’s freezing outside, your breath misting, the fake glasses you have on fogging up and then becoming clear again._

_“Do you want a ride?” He asks, gesturing towards one of the few cars left in the parking lot._

_“No thank you, but that’s a hell of a car. Sixty-six?”_

_He shakes his head, “Sixty- seven.”_

_“Nice,” you comment, shoving your hands in your pocket._

_“Sure you don’t want a ride?” You can see the concern on his face. It’s too bad he doesn’t know about all this shit, he’s a decent guy, you can tell. You really hadn’t meant to stay out this late, you were going to blow him off the first chance you got and duck out of the bar, but there was something about him._

_You nod, shivering a little, “Yeah, I’m only two blocks up the road. I’m going to walk.”_

_“Positive?”_

_“One-hundred percent. Goodnight Dean.”_

_“Catch you later.” He says as his door creaks open._

_You turn to walk but only make it a few steps before you turn, “Hey Dean! It’s Y/N by the way.”_

* * *

You don’t know how you make it out of the car, you are pretty sure your mouths haven’t left each other’s since he slammed the Impala in park.

The motel room door crashes shut as he pushes you roughly up against it, his hands eagerly exploring your body, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip as you gasp for air, fingers desperately trying to unbutton his shirt.

He grabs your wrists, having to pull roughly, pinning them to the wood beside your head as he bites the soft skin of your neck, making you whine and your hips press against his, “Please.”

But he doesn’t let go, just keeps teasing, avoiding your lips as he sucks marks all over your chest, leaving you desperate and trying to push yourself against him for more. Your skin is hot, your panties are soaked and fuck, you just want him, you just want to feel him, “Please fuck me Dean.”

“Not yet,” his voice is gravelly and low, making your entire body shudder. He presses his thigh between your legs as he continues to suck and nip your skin. You grind down on his thick thigh, grateful for the friction through your jeans, thankful for any relief to subside the throbbing between your thighs.

Your breaths come in short pants against his skin, your skin buzzing with need and all you can think about is how bad you want him against you, buried in you. Dammit, you are losing your mind.

You begin to fight his grip, ripping your hands free and immediately they find his shirt, tearing at the buttons. Normally, you know he would be amused by your eagerness, but tonight all it does is elicit a primal growl.

You pop buttons on his shirt, totally ruining it in your impatient state. Dean pulls away for a moment, you whimpering at the loss of contact as he begins to undo his belt, unbutton his pants. You can’t help it, can’t help the pull towards him as you close the distance, unable to keep your hands off of him.

“Fuck baby,” he grunts, leaving you tearing at your clothes, not bothering to unbutton your shirt, just tug it over your head as he works on your pants, shoving them to the ground with your panties.

Suddenly, your feet leave the ground, you letting out a surprised yelp as he lifts you up and tosses you on the bed. Sitting up, you work your way out of your bra as he quickly gets rid of the rest of his close, his eyes dark and his cock already achingly hard.

You flip, crawling toward the edge of the bed, towards him. You lay on your stomach, these beds higher than most, his hard cock right at your face’s level. You  reach for him, grabbing the back of his thighs, pulling him toward you.

You wrap your fingers around the base of his cock, licking the underside before taking the tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue, leaving Dean hissing between his teeth. You sink down around him, his cock hitting the back of your throat, and you have to suppress your gag reflex.

Hollowing your cheeks you slide him in and out, bobbing down around him, taking him as far as you can, until the hairs at the base tickle your nose and then letting him pop free from your mouth so you can tease him with your tongue. Dean’s legs shake, his stomach muscles tightening and clenching, his fingers tangling in your hair  as he struggles to breathe.

“F-fuck,” he grunts when  you swallow around him, his hands leaving you hair, moving underneath your body and flipping you to your back with ease. Before your brain comprehends it, his fingers are on your face, trailing your chin, tilting your head over the edge of the bed so you can take his cock again.

Holy fuck, it turns you on, your thighs tightening around nothing as he rocks his hips, burying his cock in your throat, fucking your mouth deliberately. You struggle to breathe, your spit coating him, dripping from the corners of your mouth. But you don’t care, you grip his thighs, moaning around him, begging him to keep going,

Dean’s hands find your breasts, palming them, tweaking one nipple and then the other before his fingers keep moving. Your hips buck, nothing there as your feet dig into the mattress, desperate.

His big hand covers your pussy and you moan on his cock, pressing against his touch. His fingers dip past your lips circling your clit in time with his thrust.

He leans forward, laying over you, his warm breath over your pussy making you squirm shamelessly. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place as he fucks your mouth, his mouth pressing against your soaked heat.

It turns you into a mess, tears streaming from the corners of your eyes as you try not to clench your jaw, keeping your mouth slack for him. His mouth moves against your pussy, tongue gliding over your clit before he sucks it roughly, alternating between that and scraping the sensitive bud with his teeth.

You yell around his cock, begging, your back arching off the bed as you come undone, vision filled with black spots. You shake, hips rocking as his cock throbs against your tongue, Dean coming, pulsating, thick ropes of his come hitting the back of your throat that you swallow greedily.

Your thighs continue to tremble as he pulls back, sliding out of you slack mouth, both of you panting heavily. You can’t catch your breath, your heart thumping wildly as the aftershocks make you jerk and twitch.

His hands find you quickly, flipping you around like a ragdoll, your legs open to hi, his hands moving up and down your thighs, squeezing, “Fuck sweetheart.”

He lays across you, his mouth crashing against yours hungrily, nipping at your lips, sucking at your tongue and you can taste yourself all over his lips.

His hand slips between you, fingers dipping past your lisp and into your wet core.

“Dean,” you whine against his lips, so worked up, so on edge.

“Hold onto something sweetheart,” he winks, standing back up, burying two fingers in your pussy, crooking them into your g-spot.

“O-h god,” you stutter, your hips rising off the bed. Dean doesn’t hold you still, let’s you buck freely as he starts to thrust his fingers quickly, firmly hitting your sweet spot with every pump.

Your fingers wrap around the arm that is on the bed next to you, holding so tight your knuckles turn white and your nails bite into his skin. His hand moves quickly, the air filled with your screams and the wet sound of your pussy being fucked.

He’s pushing you to the edge, his face focused his cock hardening against your thigh as the pressure builds in your lower belly. It’s been awhile since he’s made you do this but the feeling is familiar and you just want to let go, not embarrassed in the least this time around.

“F-Fuck Dean,” His fingers curl, changing pace, switching the angle so your brain feels fuzzy and your body burns.

“Want you to squirt all over baby,” he growls.

“Dean,” you cry out, unable to think straight, the only things you know are he is here and you are going to fucking explode.

“I’m right here,” he grunts, and you come undone, the pressure releasing, gushing all over his hand, stomach and thighs.

You yell for him, tears stinging the corners of your eyes as the intensity rushes over you. Dean’s fingers retreat, his mouth immediately on you, sucking and lapping up everything he can, playing at your clit, keeping the waves crashing over you as your back arches off the bed.

Your thighs tighten around his ears, body twisting as you convulse, fingers clawing at the sheets. Dean manages to pry your thighs apart, pulling you down the bed, hooking your legs around his hips as he slides into you, bottoming out.

He doesn’t wait, his hands gripping your upper arms as he pulls back and drives forward again.

You’re limp against in his hands, unable to move, just take him. You try to grab the sheets, but each hard thrust breaks your grip. Your mouth hangs slack, moaning, yelling for him as he fills you up again and again, fucking you hard.

And you love it, you love when he’s like this, when he isn’t thinking and you are both just feeling, taking what you want.

“Harder,” you breathe, and he growls, gripping your arms tighter, snapping his hips against you, wet skin smacking against wet skin.

“Fuck Y/N,” Dean grunts, the headboard cracking against the motel wall, followed by angry pounding and yelling from the other side. Neither of you give a shit.

You can’t look away from him, from his eyes that are clouded over with lust but focused solely on you.

He lets himself fall forward, holding you to his chest as his hips shift, moving faster, pushing his cock deeper inside you, hitting spots that make you go wild with need.

You wrap your arms around his neck, legs around his waist, coming hard, unable to make a sound for the first time tonight, calls getting caught in your throat as your eyes roll back and press closed. Dean presses his face against your neck as your pussy clenches around his cock, fluttering,

His arms tighten around you as he thrusts a final time, pushing himself as far as possible into you, filling you up with his come, every muscle in his body stiff and tight.

He pulls in a loud, ragged breath by your ear, not having taken in air for a few moments. You pant, unable to get yourself to stop shaking, trembling against his warm skin.

Dean rolls away, hooking an arm around you and pulling you up the bed as he collapses back against the pillows, still unable to take in a steady breath.

You feel dizzy, but turn in the sheets, rolling to your side, trying to settle your body down but really not wanting to.

Laying on your stomach, knees bent and feet up, chin propped on your hand, you watch Dean, thinking about tonight. He looks down at you, his hand immediately reaching down and brushing your skin with his knuckles.

“You lost on purpose.” You smile.

He puts his one arm behind his head, “I’m pretty sure I won tonight sweetheart.”

“I meant back then.” You cock your head, waiting.

His free hand moves down, grabbing yours, his thumb moving in circles over the top of your hand, “I played it off pretty good, didn’t I?”

“Why though?”

He smiles, “You wouldn’t have kept talking to me, you would have ran out that damn door.”

You half laugh, pressing your lips to the top of his hand, “You know, I’m kind of happy that this didn’t happen like it did tonight.”

He shifts, eyebrow raised, “Why not? Didn’t you hav-…”

“I think I enjoyed myself Dean, and if you doubt that I am sure you could ask the room on either side of us.”

He smiles warmly. You inhale slowly, choosing your next words carefully, “I don’t think we would be where we are today if we would have just hooked up. I don’t think we would have this awesome foundation that we built on.”

“So you don’t buy into that love at first sight stuff then?”

You shake your head, “I’m more a friends to lovers type girl I guess. I mean, after seeing us, after seeing how we are together, aren’t you?”

He takes a deep breath, looking away, staring up at the ceiling for a moment, “I- I don’t know. It is hard to remember now but it doesn’t feel like we were ever just normal friends.” He struggles with the words. You let his hand go, pushing yourself up and crawling up the bed, letting him wrap his arm around you and pull you to his chest.

His fingers play in your hair, “I liked you the second I met you. You’re a pretty cool chick.”

“Thanks,” you giggle, pressing your lips to his chest.

“And it is funny, you know,” he talks quickly, rambling off the words, trying to get them out before he can think better of it, “I always thought I was in love with you but it’s got nothing on how it actually feels to be in love with you”

And you can’t help it as the emotions wash over you, you spring up, moving over him, taking his face between your hands, your lips crashing against his. You can feel the utter shock, Dean still against you for a moment until he chuckles low in his throat, his lips moving against yours.

His hands come up, wandering our sides, gripping your hips and you kiss him until you feel like you are going to pass out. Only then do you pull away, but only just enough to gasp in a quick breath before kissing him again.

“I love you so much Dean.”

“I know sweetheart,” he brushes your hair away from your face.

Dean starts laughing.

“What?” you ask, confused.

He shakes his head, pulling you close, “I left my damn jacket at the bar.”

You chuckle, “We will need to go and get it, I like that one.”


	15. Seperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam, Dean and You are given a new home.

_“This key, this key opens the most powerful place in the world.” The old guy looks between the three of you, well not really, just tilts his head, he’s blind.  
_

_“So why us?” Sam asks, rightfully so. Yeah, the three of you had just saved this guy from a demon, but that shouldn’t give you an all access pass to anywhere._

_“Winchester,” he sighs, “You two are Winchesters. I remember Henry, your grandfather, he tried so hard to save us, save the Men of Letters from that evil, but he wasn’t in time. You two are legacies, it and everything in it is rightfully yours to protect.”_

_It’s quiet for a moment before he holds it out again, and old, antique looking key, “Take it.”_

_You take a step forward, picking it up out of his hand tentatively, “Where do we go?”_

_“Dead center. I think the three of you are clever enough to figure that one out.”_

_____

Here you were, standing in front of this old iron door, holding a key tightly in your hand, “Well here goes nothin’ boys.”

You unfold the key, sliding it in, turning, feeling the click, the locks on the other side of the door groaning as they open one after another.

Dean whistles low, “Guess they didn’t want anyone just walkin’ in.”

You shrug, “I mean, think of what the guy said about this place.”

“Well, welcome to Hogwarts,” you joke, pushing the door in, the landing in front of you dark. Dean’s arm stays firmly around your waist as his other hand searches, finding a switch. The lights flip on one by one, filling the air with each click and then the buzz of incandescents

“Wow,” Sam says. You can’t help but nod in agreement at the sight in front of you, it is impressive.

You’re standing at the top of a staircase lined with marble pillars. Below you a table that has a map printed onto it, light shining from beneath, chairs tucked beside it. The stone floors lead to other doorways that lead to new places..

“I think we’ve found the batcave,” Dean mumbles, moving to your side, heading down the stairs, his footsteps echoing off the walls.

You follow, tentative, not able to relax. You can’t hear any danger, you don’t see any, but that doesn’t stop you from being on edge. Your one hand is on your gun tucked in the back of your pants as you watch Dean take the entryway directly in front.

“Guys! You gotta see this.”

You move up the two steps to this room that looks like it is from a movie with a secret society, or maybe a study area in an expensive college. Everything is hardwood, desks in the center with chairs, leather chairs in little alcoves along the walls and every available shelf space is lined with books. Some books who look new and others that look like a historian’s wet dream.

Sam walks past to the first shelf, reading the spines, “All these are about monsters, and spells, and…” he trails off, moving to the next shelf, completely immersed.

You wander, pulling books, noticing how covers stick slightly as you take them out, “I don’t think any of these have been moved for years.”

A hand on your back makes you jump in place, spinning to see Dean standing behind you, looking down at you, “Wanna check out the rest of this place?”

“Only if we can break in some of the rooms right,” you wink, laughing when you hear Sam groan from the other side of this library.

Dean takes your hand, pulling you deeper into this place with him. It’s a little odd and eerie, but it’s because no one has been here in so long, it has this uninhabited feel to it. But you think with a little time and getting used to, it has potential, “Do you think we should stay here?”

He shrugs, opening one of the first doors you come to, revealing a small bedroom with a desk, “It’s as good as place as any to call home.”

You smile, “Anywhere is home with you.”

____

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Dean holds your elbows. God he’s such a mother hen sometimes. It’s sweet and secretly you love it, but you were having just as hard of a time leaving him here as he was letting you go.

“Yes Dean, we’ve been through this. It will take us half the time if we split up to go raid the storage lockers. I’ve got those couple up in Maine, and it’s going to take me a few days. If we go together we will have to go all the way there and then all the way to Texas to yours. This is way quicker.”

He sighs, bending down and catching your lips with his, “Just because it makes sense doesn’t make me like it.”

“I know,” you smile reassuringly, “But I will be back in six days, tops.”

He nods, exhaling heavily as he pulls you tightly to his chest, a bone crushing, bear hug as he kisses the top of your head, “Just stay safe.”

“I’m going to storage lockers Dean, I’m not hunting Windeigos here.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he struggles to let you go, kissing you one more time before he lets you crawl into the truck without him.

Watching him give you a goodbye wave in your rear view mirror is harder than you could have ever imagined.

_____

It’s pouring down rain and you can barely see out the windshield of this late 50s Ford truck you had taken from the Bunker’s garage. Your phone buzzes in the passenger’s seat and you see Dean’s name pop up. Even though he’s called you every day, it doesn’t stop the racing of your heart every time you see his name.

“Hey,” you answer, turning up the wipers as high as they will go.

“What’s cookin good lookin’?”

You can’t help but laugh at his teasing tone, “Could you not be such a dork?”

“Oh come on, it wasn’t even my best line.”

“I’ve heard your lines Dean…And I’m pretty sure that might be.”

“Quiet,” he chuckles low, “I saw the weather is getting bad.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’m about four hours out even driving this slow.”

He’s silent for a moment, and over the pounding rain you can hear his breathing, just barely there, “I miss you sweetheart.”

It had been five days since you had last seen him. This was the longest you have been apart since you’ve been together. Actually, it is the longest you have been apart in years, “I miss you too Dean. I’ll be back soon.”

“Just drive safe, okay?” He’s such a worrier, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t nice to know that he was thinking about you.

“I will, don’t worry. See you in a few,” then you smirk, knowing you can crack him, get him to laugh, “and you better be naked.”

He busts out laughing, and you know it’s that full body one where he smiles and shakes, “On it.”

“Bye.”

“Bye sweetheart.”

You reluctantly hit the red end icon. You could talk to him the entire ride but with how shitty it is out, you know you need to pay attention to the road. The one thing about old cars is they weren’t known for their stellar lighting, and you are lucky if you can see twenty feet in front of you.

The hours pass slowly, and even though you are jammin’ to music, each passing mile you become more exhausted. Your eyes hurt and itch, your entire body feels heavy by the time you park in the garage.

You grab a cardboard box, tucking it under your arm, pushing your way through the door and down the steps, making your way through the halls. And it doesn’t really hit you, the feeling of coming home to someone until you make it past the first turn and can hear the Led Zeppelin coming from Dean’s room along with him singing.

You can’t help but listen, smile, knowing that in a few short moments you will get to see him for the first time in days. And suddenly you don’t feel as tired, as worn down. It kinda feels like you are getting up from a kick ass nap.

You lean against his doorframe, watching as he half dances along to the music while putting clothes in drawers, singing at the top of his lungs. He turns, catching you out of the corner of his eye, spinning around and turning a little red. But it is quickly replaced with a huge smile as he rushes towards you, hands on either side of your face, his mouth crashing against yours.

It’s all you can do to hold onto the box in your hands as his lips move with yours, kissing you deeply until he nips at your bottom lip and your fingers slip.

“Whoa there,” he snatches the box before it hits the ground, chuckling.

“Thanks,” you reach out, hands touching him for the first time, fisting the collar of his shirt as you pull him down to you for another kiss, “I thought you said you were going to be naked.”

“You’re early.” He mumbles, pressing his lips against your skin, over and over, any place he can reach until you are giggling uncontrollably, his excitement contagious.

“Alright, alright…” you take the box from him, “Let me go set this down and I will be right back.”

His face falls, confused, “Where are you taking them? It’s just clothes, I left half the drawers empty for you.”

“I was just going to put them in another room,” you shrug, gesturing down the hall.

He raises an eyebrow, “Why?”

Your eyes move to the floor, trying to choose your words carefully, but instead it all comes out in a tumble, “It’s not like I’m not going to be in here- but we hadn’t talked about it and I wasn’t sure, and I wanted you to have your own space, because- well- you’ve never really had something that was just yours, and I didn’t want-I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to be in your room-I…” Your words stop as he kisses you again, cutting you off.

“It’s not my room sweetheart,” he mumbles against your lips, “it’s our room.”

You sigh contently as he rests his forehead against yours, his warm breath fanning over your face, “And I do have something that is all mine, I’ve got you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat at his words and you are struggling not to tear up at the sincerity of them, “When did you turn into a sap?”

He chuckles, eyes falling shut as he smiles, “Shut up…Here.” He takes the box out of your hands, setting it on the desk before his fingers lace through yours, pulling you farther into the room.

Dean’s free hand cups your cheek as he studies your face and you study his. It’s not weird or creepy like it would have been months and months ago. You don’t shy away. It’s both of you taking a mental note of each other, memorizing, appreciating that you are both still here, standing in front of one another.

You half smile, squeezing his fingers, “I really did miss you a lot.”

He tucks your hair behind your ear, not saying anything as he leans in to kiss you, his fingertips ghosting over your skin. It isn’t like before, it isn’t fireworks and desperation, it’s hot embers and need and it creates a burn through your entire body.

He doesn’t need to say anything as he tugs at the hem of your hoodie, sliding it over your head. And you don’t need to say anything as you work on his belt, sliding his jeans and boxers down his hips. Nothing needs said as you both stand, half naked, unable to stop touching each other, barely able to pull your lips from one another long enough to ditch the rest of your clothes.

Dean grips your hips with his calloused hands, kissing you over and over as he backs you towards the bed, your bed, until your calves bump against it. He pushes you gently, letting you fall and bounce against the mattress.

He climbs over you, staying with you as you scoot to the head of the bed, his mouth finding yours again and again. No rush, no agenda, just you and him.

You push at his shoulder, Dean rolling to his back, allowing you to crawl over him, resting your weight on his muscular frame, your hair falling over your shoulder, tickling his face.

His hands run over your body, squeezing as you guys get tangled in the sheets. Every little touch makes you want him more, makes you insane, makes you drunk on him. And you kiss him, taste him as your tongues slide against one another, neither of you breaking it until you are lightheaded and your lungs scream for air.

You pull back a little, looking down at him, looking at those olive green eyes and those freckles splattered across tan skin. You watch the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles, “What?”

“Nothing,” you mumble, resting your forehead against his, lips barely brushing, noses touching. He exhales, holding you tightly as he flips you onto your back, kissing down your neck, nipping at your collarbone as he grinds his hard cock against your wet folds, building you up with his even movements, cock heavy against your pussy, rubbing against your clit.

He goes to move farther down your body, trailing his lips between your breasts but you cup his chin, stopping him, shaking your head. He glances up, eyebrow raised.

“No, not tonight,” you whisper, “just want you.”

“Okay baby,” he says low, moving back up to kiss you deeply.

He presses his forehead against yours, watching between you as he lines himself up, holding his cock as he slowly slides in you. You groan, your eyes falling shut as he pushes inch by agonizingly slow inch into your aching pussy until he bottoms out, staying perfectly still as you both try desperately to catch your breath.

Dean nuzzles against your cheek, grunting as your pussy flutters around his throbbing cock, “It’s always going to be me and you baby. Okay?”

You nod quickly, unable to speak. Dean smiles warmly, kissing you tenderly as he hooks his arm under your knee, hiking your leg up to rest over his bicep. You grip his arm as he starts to thrust, long, solid movements that make your jaw go slack as you moan and gasp.

With every movement you can feel it in your bones, the reaffirmation of how he feels, of how much you love each other. It’s more than physical, hell it might even go beyond explainable emotion, it’s just there and solid and so incredibly good.

You shudder underneath him, the push and pull of his cock inside you driving you higher. You say his name over and over, a plea on your lips. Dean never looks away from your face, his eyes intent, boring into yours, watching you fall apart because of him.  

You thread your fingers through his short hair, tugging as you come undone, pulling him down to kiss you as the light explodes behind your eyelids, your body trembling. He presses his lips all over your face, mumbling how much he missed you, how beautiful you are, how much you mean to him as you rock up against him, dragging out your orgasm and getting lost in this feeling with him.

He adjusts and lets your leg fall to the bed, resting his weight against you as he kisses right below your ear, whispering, “Sweetheart…” But his thought gets lost as you nuzzle your face against his neck, pressing your lips to his warm skin, tasting the saltiness there.

Dean grinds his hips against yours, moving slowly, his pelvic bone putting pressure on your clit, making sparks fly under your skin.

“Oh god, Dean.” You whine, your legs tightening around his sides as your back arches, leaving no space between you two, no differentiation where he ends and you begin.

“Easy baby, I’m right here,” he mumbles, his fingers sliding through yours, trapping them on top of one of the pillows. And god, that simple act, the familiarity, the reassurance, the promises in it, gives you butterflies in your stomach and makes your heart swell in your chest.

You moan into each other’s mouths, breathing each other’s names as his hips thrust, yours rising to meet his. You lose track of time, lose track of where you are, everything fades away except for Dean.

You aren’t sure who comes first, but it is low shouts of names, shaking bodies and trembling skin. Your pussy fluttering and clenching around his throbbing cock, as you both fall to pieces. Breath and sweat mixing while you bury your face against his neck as his hand squeezes around yours.

He kisses you, lips moving languidly until neither of you are really kissing anymore, just enjoying the simple touch. He slips away from you, his soft cock sliding out making you whine at the loss. He scoots, repositioning both your exhausted bodies.

Dean lays behind you, holding you close, your head resting on his arm while his other hand wanders your body. He kisses your back and your shoulder so softly it almost tickles. You relax against him, going into this half asleep, half awake state of bliss where you could stay forever and be happy.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t want you in here?”

You half turn so you can see him, “I didn’t know, it wasn’t something we have ever talked about. Living on the road, we never really had something that was either of our space so I had no idea. I don’t even really remember what it is like to be in one spot. I didn’t know what you wanted.”

Dean nods, eyebrows furrowed as he thinks, hand moving mindlessly over your bare skin.

“What do you want?” He asks genuinely, eyes focused on yours.

You smile softly, bending so you can brush your lips over his, “I want to be here with you. You and me always, right?” You echo his earlier words and he smiles, beaming, that infectious smile that makes you happy.

Dean pulls you close, enveloping you with his big frame, squeezing you so hard that you can barely breathe, “I’ve got something for you.”

“What?” you half turn, raising an eyebrow as his grip loosens, “Did I miss something?”

He shakes his head, leaning over you and opening the drawer, rummaging around in it, “No. I was going to wait a few weeks, do something special for our one year,” he swallows hard, body suddenly tensing nervously, “but I can’t wait anymore.”

You can tell when he finds what he’s searching for, his hand stopping and him taking in a deep, shaky breath and freezing.

“Dean?” You ask quietly, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah sweetheart, I’m more than okay.” He clears his throat, bringing his hand out of the drawer and laying back so he isn’t crushing you anymore, just his front pressed up against your back as he sets a small black box on the pillow in front of you.

The realization hits you and you feel your stomach drop like you had  just started going down the big hill on a rollercoaster, “Oh god,” you choke out.

Dean kisses right under your ear, his voice rumbling through your body, “I’m not great at saying it, but I love you so much, so much that some days it scares the shit out of me. But I don’t wanna spend a day without you. And I know I could have done this better, but this is us and we don’t know what’s going to happen next week, or hell, even tomorrow….”

You swallow hard, staring at the box as he plays with it nervously and you can’t stop the tear that slides from the corner of your eye or the shaky, choked breaths you are taking.

He takes a deep breath, “But I do know I want to be with you the rest of my life.” He flips the box open, a simple, silver band sitting on the inside, “Y/N, will you marry me?”


	16. Keeping Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean’s question needs an answer and a hunt pulls you away from the Bunker

“Dean,” you breathe, “are you serious?”

He pulls you closer, if that’s even possible, nodding against your shoulder, “Yeah, I’m dead serious. Will you marry me?”

You nod frantically, unable to stop the tears, “Yes, of course I will. I love you.”

He buries his face against your neck and you can feel the tension leave his body. You roll in his arms so you are facing him. You press your lips to his, kissing him deeply, your hands holding his face between them, the rough stubble scratching your palms.

“Here,” he chuckles, breaking it and reaching behind you, taking the ring out of the box and holding your hand, sliding it on your finger.

You touch it, looking at it. It’s simple, no frills, and it is perfect. Dean breaks your thoughts, “It was my mom’s, I got it resized for you. I asked Sam about-…”

“Sam knows?” You cut him off.

“Yeah,” he nods, smiling, “I talked to him about it a while back. I’ve been carrying that thing around for a month trying to figure out how the hell to ask you…” he trails off, “And it’s whatever you want Y/N, shotgun wedding in Vegas, here at the Bunker, at some church, I don’t care as long as I get to stand there with you.”

You snuggle up against him, lacing your fingers through his, unable to take your eyes off the ring.

“You had to propose right before bed though,” you tease, “now I’m not going to be able to sleep.”

Dean flips you onto your back, so quickly that you squeak in surprise. He growls low in his throat, lips finding your neck and he nips your soft skin there, “I can think of one or two things we can do instead of sleep.”

“You’re such a dork Winchester.”

“You know,” he chuckles, giving you small kisses all over your face, accenting his words, “pretty soon you won’t be able to use Winchester as an insult.”

“Shh,” you catch his face between your hands, craning your neck to press your lips firmly to his. You brain is running a million different directions right now and you don’t care one bit. All you care about is the man hovering above you and how one day, maybe in the very near future, he is going to be your husband.

______

You slowly wake up, head fuzzy with sleep, reaching around, quickly realizing that the bed is empty. You open your eyes, looking around the dim room, wondering where Dean had run off to.

You push yourself off the bed, slipping on a pair of boyshorts, picking your bra up off the floor and the first drawer you open is full of Dean’s band tees so you grab the AC/DC one on top and slip it on.

The concrete floor is cold under your bare feet as you take off down the hall, deciding the kitchen was your best bet, Dean didn’t start his day without coffee. And sure enough, the closer you get to the kitchen, the more you can smell bacon and hear the boys talking.

“I knew you wouldn’t make it two more weeks to ask her.” Sam teases his brother.

“Shut up if you want breakfast.” Dean mutters, flipping something on the griddle as you lean in the doorway watching.

Sam shakes his head, going back to his newspaper but catches you standing there in the doorway, smiling in your direction as he gets up, meeting you halfway across the room, pulling you into a hug, “Hey…Congrats.”

“I can’t believe you were able to keep it a secret, I had no idea.” You laugh as he lets you go.

“Well Dean would have killed me if I would have spilled so…” he let’s you go, going back to his seat, trailing off as he sees you watching Dean.

Dean’s got this old man robe on, flipping pancakes, his hair a spiky mess and you could not be anymore of a lovestruck idiot. You walk right up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Mornin’ sweetheart,” he glances back at you, setting down the spatula long enough to twist and wrap his arm around you, pulling you against his side.

“Morning, it smells good.”

“Yeah, that’s because it isn’t burnt,” he jokes.

“You aren’t tellin’ me anything I don’t know, I know I can’t cook worth a shit.” You rub your hand up and down his side, standing on tiptoes to kiss his cheek before you duck out from under his arm.

You don’t even make it a step before his arm snags around you and he pulls you back against his chest, dipping down to kiss you deeply, his lips moving with yours. It’s tender, gentle, and you can feel your heart skipping in your chest.

You pull away, “You’re gonna burn the bacon.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he mumbles against your lips as he steals one more kiss before going back to it. You grab a cup of coffee and sit across from Sam, pulling your feet up under you.

You sip the hot liquid, watching Dean cook while he bickers with Sam. Yeah, you could definitely get used to this.

Dean finishes up, setting a plate in front of you, another at his seat beside you. Sam lets out a small huff, “Really, dude?”

Dean points at the stovetop as he sits down, “Your picky ass can serve itself. Half the time you don’t eat what I give you.”

Sam rolls his eyes, but you catch his smile as he sees Dean lace his fingers through yours. You lean over, kissing Dean on the cheek, “You gotta let go for five minutes so I can eat.”

He gives you a disgruntled groan and lets go so you can cut up your pancakes and shove them in your mouth. Dean is a damn good cook, everything tastes amazing.

“So,” Sam says as he sits back down, just some fruit and bacon on his plate, “I know it’s bad timing, but I think I caught a hunt.”

“Alrighty, what is it?” You ask, genuinely interested. You could tell by the face Sam made that he expected you to be annoyed about it, what with the timing and everything, but you didn’t mind. It wasn’t like it really cut into your time with Dean, it was just a different dynamic.

“Well,” he shrugs, grabbing newspapers from the corner of the table, “There are these people in New Hampshire and their insides are melting.”

“Like liquefying?” Dean asked through a mouthful of pancakes.

Sam nods, “Yeah, police have no idea. I’m not sure either, but it sounds like our type of thing.”

You nod, glancing at the clock on the wall,  “You want to leave in an hour?”

“Yeah, maybe we can figure out the connection on the way.”

____

You did figure out the connection, but it took two more bodies to put the pieces together. Women in their early thirties, with an affinity for rich, older men. Men who happened to be married. It seemed to happen a lot in a rich neighborhood like this, more than you thought it would. It almost felt like you were chasing someone down in a bad daytime soap opera.

The clock on your phone passes by 2 AM and you glance out the windshield of the Impala, looking down the damp, dark street. Your body feels like it is going to fall apart. You are pretty damn sure in the last week you have gotten three hours of sleep, max. This hunt has gotten away from you, you feel out of control, like you are slowly slipping and going insane.

“Hey, it’s okay Y/N,” Dean reaches over the bench seat to you, his hand rubbing up and down your thigh reassuringly. You glance over, he looks about as tired as you feel: bloodshot eyes, bags underneath, hair sticking in all directions, a little longer than normal.

You force a smile, covering his hand with yours, “I know, we just gotta catch this thing…” you trail off, looking out the windshield and up to the lit room of the person you were tailing, “I just wish we knew what it was.”

He squeezes your leg, leaving his hand there, “Well, we know who it’s going after next so if we can save them, it’s a win in my book.”

It wasn’t exactly true. You had it narrowed down to two women, you guys were tailing this one, Sam was keeping an eye on the other. You nod, “I know.”

Your eyes burn, and every time you blink it hurts. Your brain feels like mush, your head is heavy on your neck and every muscle is stiff. But you are unable to sit still, restless and twitchy. It’s this weird mix of hyperactive and total exhaustion, there is nothing you can do to stop it.

You need to distract yourself, “What do you think it is?”

He shakes his head, slouching down in the seat, “Demon? God? Shifter? Who the hell knows.”

You swallow, nodding, not saying anything else, zoning out, only to be brought back by his fingers brushing over your cheek, “I swear sweetheart, I’ll let you sleep for as long as you want when we get home.”

You let out a soft laugh, leaning into his touch,  “I’m going to hold you to that Winchester.”

He cups your chin, tired eyes searching your face. Dean leans in, his lips barely brushing over yours before he sits back, holding your hand as he continues to watch the third floor apartment. You can feel the calmness wash over you just from that small gesture of reassurance that he is right here with you.

“Y/N.” His tone changes, there is an edge to it as he lets go of your hand and grabs the handle to open the door. You follow his eyes, the lights in the apartment flickering erratically. Shit.

Dean is racing for the fire escape by the time you round the front of the Impala, both of you trying your damndest to make it there on time. Dean hops onto the dumpster, grabbing the ladder, using his weight to pull it down as he starts climbing. As soon as you can reach the bar with a little hop, you haul yourself up, willing your body to move faster. This lady doesn’t have much time.

By the second story, you’ve caught up to Dean, right on his heels as he takes the last couple of steps to the window. He moves to the side, trying to crack it with his elbow.

“Move, Dean!” You shout, grabbing your gun from the back of your pants, aiming at the window, shielding your face before you squeeze the trigger twice.

Dean clears the glass, moving in as you hear the screams from the other side, dread fills you, knowing you might already be too late.

The lady is laying on the floor, flopping around as her insides boil, only having minutes, maybe just seconds left. Dean slides down next to her, trying to get her to calm down, letting her know you guys are here to help.

“Y/N!” He shouts, “What the hell? There is no one here…”

You think for a moment, looking around frantically, searching for anything that wasn’t here earlier when you cased the place. But everything was the same; the lamp is in the same place, the papers on the counter haven’t been touched, the paintings are- no, the one near the kitchen is crooked.

You sprint across the room, yanking it off the wall, a large coin falling from behind, clinking on the ground, rolling. It looks like an old antique, fits with the rest of the decor. The realization hits you, why you hadn’t noticed anything at the other scenes, because what was doing it fit in, “Dean it’s a witch!”

“But there weren’t any hex bags!”

“It’s a damn coin,” you grab your gun again, doing the only thing you can think of, squaring up and putting a hole through it.

Immediately the lights stop flickering and the woman stops screaming, looking around confused, “You just shot up my apartment! I’m going to call the police.”

You roll your eyes, putting the gun back, looking and making sure Dean was alright as you picked up the coin. Sam would know more, it looked old, like hundreds and hundreds of years old.

The woman is still yelling, “You think  it is okay to carry one of those things around, what if you would have-.”

“Listen lady,” Dean cuts her off, “we just saved your ass, so why don’t you just settle the fuck down.”

_________

You hand the metal to Sam who inspects it, “Yeah, we’ve seen something like this before. I think they were Irish witches the last time…” he trails off, flipping the coin through his fingers, inspecting it, “You know, it would have helped if you wouldn’t have almost destroyed it.”

You half laugh, “Sorry I didn’t think it through when I was trying to not let someone die.”

“Luckily for you, while you were off getting your stuff, I started scanning the Men of Letters files and books to a drive.” He pulls out his laptop, “And I’ve made it through letter ‘d’.”

You sigh with relief, “So coins will be on there?”

Sam nods as Dean opens the motel door, coffees in hand. He grabs one out of the carrier, holding it out for you, “It’s hot, careful.”

You only half listen, too desperate for something to keep you awake, bringing the cup to your lips. As soon as the coffee is in your mouth you realize your mistake, struggling to swallow it, burning your throat the entire way down, “Fuck.”

Dean shakes his head, laughing low, “I told you.”

“So I think I’ve got something,” Sam holds up the coin, comparing it against whatever he has open on his laptop, “It’s actually from the Middle Ages.”

________________

This is it, the name on the letters in the mailbox match the woman Sam had gotten a tip on. You are positive she is your witch, “This is the right house Dean.”

He nods, stepping up beside you in the cool night air, holding out your gun for you, “Full of witch killing bullets, here’s another clip in case it goes south.”

You take it from his hand, giving him a small smile, “Thanks…hopefully it doesn’t go south.”

He sighs, eyes forward on the house, lights on and shining through the windows, “It always does with fucking witches. Goddamn I hate them.” His voice is flat, concentrated.

“Do you want to wait for Sam?” You ask even though you already know the answer.

He cracks for a moment, smiling down at you, “Nah sweetheart…I’m not waiting twenty minutes for his slow ass, he’ll catch up. We got this. C’mon.”

Dean takes point, you following close behind as he moves to the back gate. Unfortunately it is one with an expensive lock and it is going to take time to pick. Dean takes a step back, looking at the height, “I can make it.”

You grab his sleeve, hissing, “You aren’t going by yourself.”

“You want a boost?” He’s half joking, but you know you can’t scale the tall privacy fence without being noisy, maybe tipping the witch off.

“Yeah,” you tuck the gun in your jacket as he locks his fingers together. You grab his shoulder, stepping up into his hand as he hoists you up. Grabbing the top of the fence, you push up, flipping over the other side, landing softly.

Dean grunts, landing heavily, bumping into you and pushing you off balance. He grabs your arm, steadying you, “Easy there.”

You nod, swallowing hard as you take your gun out, checking it one more time out of habit before you start jogging for the house, Dean on your heels. You duck under a window, peeking through the side, looking for movement. A TV is on, but you don’t see anyone.

Dean is watching you and you shake your head, pointing around the house. He nods, understanding, keeping low and moving, you following closely, trying to keep your breathing even and stay as quiet as you possibly can.

Around the corner there is a window high on the wall, Dean stands, glancing through, dropping back quickly. He holds up one finger, there is one person inside.

‘Okay,’ you mouth. You are going to go in hot then, through the front. That was the plan, since the beginning, if there were no bystanders, you were going in fast.

He takes off, heading for the backdoor. He stops in front, waiting for you to be ready, you grab the knob, feeling that it is unlocked. You take a deep breath, counting to three in your head, trying to keep your racing heart under control as the adrenaline pumps through you.

You pull the door open, it slamming on the hinges as Dean moves in first, staying to your left, clearing the room and signalling to you. You move along the hallway, opening a door to the right, clearing that room before rejoining him.

She’s gotta know you are coming by now, witches don’t tend to hide, so where the hell is she?

You move to the kitchen, a teapot left on an open flame on the stove. Dean ducks into the next room, coming back a few moments later, shrugging, “I don’t kn-”

You both jump as someone on the TV screams, making you heart leap in your chest, whipping around to the sound.

“Son of a bitch,” you hiss, taking a deep breath.

“Y/N! Down!” Dean yells, pulling your attention back. Normally you wouldn’t have hesitated, you would have dropped to the ground but you’re caught off guard, the teapot whistling on the stove, making you spin around to the sound instead of listening.

The air is taken out of your lungs as you are tossed across the room, your back cracking off the counter, the impact knocking the wind out of you.

“Y/N!” Dean shouts again, and you hear two rounds crack through the air as you fight to breathe, choking on nothing as your muscles refuse to work with you.

Dean is tossed against the other wall, pinned there as the witch crosses the room, her hand held up. She laughs, this high pitched little ring, “Two hunters who didn’t come to the party very prepared.”

You finally take in a shaky gasp, scrambling across the room for your gun. It slides away from you as she cackles, pulling her arm back, slamming Dean across to another wall, hitting a shelf full of glassware, shattering it, his head cracking off the wood, body falling slack.

“Dean!” You cry out, pushing yourself off the floor, losing all sense as you tackle the witch low, desperate.

You both hit the ground and you pin her underneath you, straddling her chest, running on sheer panic and adrenaline. You weren’t going to let her hurt Dean again.

She claws at your face, and starts to chant something, some spell, but you press your arm into her windpipe, ignoring the pain of her nails raking your skin as you quiet her. You let go for a moment, grabbing her hair, slamming her head off the hardwood with as much force as you can manage. She wails and you do it again and again, the air filled with sickening cracks until she finally stops fighting you.

You pant, letting her limp body go as you crawl away, focused on Dean laying crumpled on the floor.

“Dean?” you rush over, taking his cut up and bruised face between your hands, shaking him, “Dean? Answer me please.”

The panic grips you, feeling like a vise around your heart as you try and wake him up, “Dean! Please!”

He’s breathing, but it’s shallow, and it is all you can do not to cry. You grab his shirt, pulling him so he is propped against the wall and you check him over, “C’mon Dean, I need you to wake up baby, please.”

The door rattling draws your attention away, you whip around looking, finding his gun close by and you hold it towards the noise, cocking the hammer as the footsteps near, getting ready to turn the corner.

“Woah, woah, Y/N!” Sam’s hands shoot up and you immediately point it away, letting the safety back in place.

“Sam, I need help,” you turn back to Dean and Sam kneels next to you as Dean groans, starting to come to.

You chest clenches as you touch his face, “Dean? Can you hear me?”

His eyes flutter open, unfocused and wild until they come to your face. Then he smiles, “Hey sweetheart, you look worried.”

“Fuck Dean,” you can help it, you throw yourself against him, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him as tight as you can. He grunts at the impact but wraps an arm around you reassuringly.

“I’m fine sweetheart, it’s okay.”

You let him go hesitantly, backing off, inspecting his face and the cuts. The worst one is across the bridge of his nose, but it should heal fine.

You rock back on your heels, standing, giving him space to get up, which he tries but grabs the back of his head, “Son of a bitch.”

“Here,” Sam reaches down and hauls his brother to his feet, steadying him, “Let’s get you back to the motel.”

______

It’s been over an hour since you laid down and you are no closer to falling asleep. Sam started snoring softly about twenty minutes ago, but Dean hasn’t fallen asleep yet either, you don’t even have to look to know. His breathing is still shallow and his arm is still locked tight around you.

You feel guilty and kinda empty, this huge weight settling over you, you finally understood the way Dean felt when you had been hurt, and his injury was nowhere near that. You are angry, angry and tense because you are scared. You are scared because this time you were able to get to him in time. What happens next time when you aren’t able to? What happens if he gets really hurt?

What happens if you lose Dean?

Dean squeezes you gently, feeling your distress, and you shake your head against him, refusing to look up. You start to wallow in the thoughts. Life without Dean would be awful, and honestly, you don’t know if your heart could take it.

Over the years, especially this last one, you have become so dependent on this man, he is a huge chunk of your life. You spend every day with him, you work with him, and some couples that would tear them apart, but for you two it only makes you better, it only makes your relationship stronger. If he died, there would be this huge, gaping hole that you could never, ever fill. The thought terrifies you, and it leaves you filled with this inexplicable need to feel him, to know he is there.

Before this, before Dean, this would have sent you running for the hills. You would have put up walls, you would have separated yourself from the situation. You would have guarded yourself. You wouldn’t have allowed yourself to be hurt, you would have protected yourself. But having him here, having him right here beside you? All of that fell away.

You don’t need to hide that from him, you are allowed to be vulnerable. It is because you two have known each other, you are each other’s best friends, you are partners and that is why you want to marry this man. Because despite everything, despite this terrifying and violent job you make each other better, he makes you want to be a better person. And fuck you are afraid to lose him bloody, but you don’t want to waste a second that you are lucky enough to have him here next to you.

Finally, you are able to look up and him. His green eyes are filled with worry even if his face isn’t showing it. You half smile, letting him know that everything is okay as you shift, crawling over him.

Dean watches you carefully, half propped up on the pillows, an eyebrow cocked as you rest against his chest, leaning forward, your lips finding his. His hands move up to you, running down your sides and he holds you close as his lips move against yours. He deepens the kiss, nipping lightly at your bottom lip, letting you open up to him, pressing against him as your tongues play against one another.

He’s the first to pull away, his fingers brushing the stray hairs out of your face, tucking them behind your ear.

‘You okay?’ he mouths, brow still furrowed.

You nod, leaning back down to rest your forehead to his for a moment, eyes falling shut, wanting to remember every single second you get with him. He tips his head, his lips barely grazing over yours, bringing you back.

“Dean,” you moan low and his hand clamps over your mouth as Sam stirs slightly before falling back to snoring.

“Shhh,” he whispers, barely audible, “sweetheart, you have to be quiet.”

You nod, swallowing hard and he removes his hand, only for it to be replaced by his lips, his free arm hooking around you and holding you close. He rolls gently, pushing you to your back, trapping you underneath him as his lips move down your neck, his teeth skimming over the sensitive skin, and you have to will yourself not to make a sound as you concentrate on the sensations.

Dean works his way down, pushing your t-shirt up so his lips can touch your stomach as he pulls up the sheets.

“Dean no,” you hiss, realizing what he is going to do.

Even in the shitty lighting you can see his smirk as he disappears under the sheets, moving slowly so the bed doesn’t creak. You don’t like not being able to see him, not being able to anticipate where he is going to move, but you are so caught up in his touch, struggling to keep quiet, that it is almost an afterthought.

His fingers trail over your thighs, his lips following soon after, little butterfly kisses as he settles down silently between your legs, propping them over his shoulders. You squeeze reflexively, but his hands hold your thighs apart as his nose trails over the wet crotch of your panties. Your fingers tangle in the sheets, jaw clenching, eyes pressed shut as you fight to keep quiet.

You jump in place, his fingers moving the flimsy fabric to the side, his tongue replacing it, just barely dipping in your folds, teasing you. You squirm on the bed, sweat breaking across your skin as you struggle, his tongue pressing flat against your clit. You can’t help the high pitched little whimper that escapes.

Instead of stopping, Dean sucks at your clit and if you wouldn’t have covered your own mouth you would have screamed. Your entire body goes rigid, you can’t thrash, you can’t make a sound and he is playing it like a game, hitting every spot he knows drives you insane.

You can’t help but roll your hips and Dean’s arms wrap around you, holding you down as his mouth covers your pussy, licking between your clit and your entrance. You feel like you are going to combust when his tongue dips into your core.

You bite down on your bottom lip so hard you taste blood, his teeth grazing over your clit, making your body tremble. The only thing audible is the wet sounds of his mouth on your pussy, your ragged breathing and Sam’s snores.

You don’t know how much longer you can take this, how much longer you can stay quiet. Your body feels like electricity is running through it, buzzing right below the surface of your skin. You left hand snakes under the sheets, threading in his hair, tugging as he pushes you higher.

Dean groans low against you and the vibrations rock through your body. Your hips twist to the side and it’s all he can do to hold you still as he works at your clit, driving you over the edge.  Every muscle in your body goes stiff, your back arching, pushing yourself against his face as you fight the losing battle.

You tug at his hair harder than you mean to, Dean growling in response, breaking the quiet before you do. You are afraid to breathe, the air getting caught in your chest as your pussy clenches and the pressure builds in your head.

Your orgasm continues to rock through you, it has nowhere to go, you have nowhere to focus that release as you try to hold everything in. Dean crawls up, hovering above you, his hand cupping your chin as he whispers in your ear, “Breathe.”

You shake your head, afraid that if you do you will wake Sam up. Dean holds you against him. You bury your face against his neck, gasping before letting out a ragged breath, his skin silencing the noises you make.

He let’s you lay back when your breathing evens out, even if your heart hasn’t stopped racing. He smiles warmly, kissing you gently as his fingers slide through yours, and you squeeze them. Dean glances over, smile growing and you follow his gaze. Your ring is clearly visible at this angle, the silver reflecting the little light in the room. You can’t help but smile as this warm, safe feeling washes over you.

You tighten your fingers, Dean flexing his in response. He leans down and kisses you one more time, his free hand sliding down, working with yours to shove his boxers down enough for his hard cock to spring free. The bed frame creaks a little as you two struggle, freezing until you are both satisfied that his brother is still fast asleep.

You spread you legs a little wider, giving him room to push his cock into your aching pussy. God you want him, you want to feel him, you want to know he is right here with you, you want him to know that you are never going to be anywhere but here with him. No matter what.

He pushes into you slowly, burying himself inside you you to the base, staying perfectly still as you adjust, his muscles tensing each time your walls tighten around him. You roll your hips, urging him to move, but the frame creaks low.

Dean pushes you down with his hips. His lips brush against your ear as he whispers low so you can barely hear him, “Don’t move sweetheart, you are gonna give us away.”

You moan, wiggling your hips. Dean smiles against your skin, thrusting slow and shallow. The even push and pull enough to make your body burn with need.

He rolls to his side, pulling you with him, hiking your leg up over his hip. He moves slowly, long and languid thrusts, grinding his pelvic bone against your clit every time he buries himself inside you.

You press your forehead against his, biting your lip, trying to keep control of yourself. But god, it’s Dean, and when it comes to this man you can barely hold yourself together.

Dean pulls your leg up further, changing the angle, hitting your g-spot and you see stars behind your eyelids. Dean’s hand clamps over your mouth, muffling the needy moan that rose in your throat.

He shakes his head against yours, staying quiet, his olive eyes intent on yours as he pumps in and out. And his eyes, they say all the words that need said between you.

I’m here. I need you. I love you.

You can’t stop it as the tears leak from the corners of your eyes, this is just too overwhelming. Between your fear of the possibility of ever losing Dean, his unconditional love towards you and the fact that there is a sleeping person less than five feet away, it short circuits your brain.

Your fingers claw at his shirt, fisting in the fabric as your body shakes uncontrollably. You are so close, teetering on the edge, but unable to find your release.

Dean’s cock twitches inside you, throbbing against you fluttering walls, his hand tightening over your mouth, trying like hell to suppress the sounds you are making. And little moan that escapes, ever high pitched whimper, it drives him on, his eyes darkening.

His hand falls away, gripping your hip as he thrusts harder, the bed creaking with every movement as you buck to meet him. His mouth covers yours, quieting you the best he can, but he’s right there with you, letting groans and low grunts escape.

His fingers move from your hip down to your clit, circling the sensitive nub, putting pressure in all the right places and it throws you into your orgasm. Dean moves quickly, wrapping his arms around you, holding your face against his neck as you struggle not to scream, both your hips moving erratically against each other as your clenching pussy pulls him to his own end.

Dean flips you to your back, thrusting forward hard, bottoming out as the muscles in his neck pull tight and his warm come spurts against your walls. His hips jerk again and again, dragging out both of your orgasms, leaving you both panting, trembling messes.

He collapses on top of you, the weight warm and welcome as your breathing levels out. But your brain is still fuzzy as he presses small kisses to your neck, rolling away. You instinctively reach for him and Dean pulls you in his arms, your front flush against his, noses brushing one another as you search each other’s faces, eyes finally coming to rest on one another’s.

He brushes the sweat plastered hair away from your face, fingers barely brushing over your skin. You cup his chin, thumb tracing his bottom lip. Dean smiles warmly, pressing a small kiss to the tip of your thumb as the bliss settles over you both.

He laces his right hand with your left, bringing it up to his lips, kissing each of your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours until he comes to your ring finger. He glances away, down to the ring, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I still can’t believe you are going to be my wife.”

“Well you did ask,” you tease, “and you gave me a ring.”

“Oh shut up,” he laughs, rolling you over, pinning you underneath him. You can’t help the giggle that escapes as his lips attack your neck, his scruff tickling your soft skin.

“Stop it,” you hiss, trying not to laugh harder.

Instead he nips at the base of your neck and you try to get away, your stomach hurting from trying to hold the sounds back.

A pillow suddenly hits you both in the face, surprising you, making you jump in Dean’s arms.

“You two go to sleep, you are not getting it on while I’m in the bed next to you,” Sam growls, flipping over and facing away.

You and Dean glance at each other, both of you looking like teens who just got busted. Then Dean starts to laugh, his whole body wracking as he settles down beside you, pulling you against his chest, “I think he might be a little late on that one.”

Sam groans, sitting bolt upright, “For fucks sake you two, we are going back to the Bunker in five hours! Please just tell me you two haven’t been going at it.”

You try to keep a straight face, try not to laugh at your friend’s distress, but it is two damn funny, “No we haven’t Sam, not at all.”

You barely get the words out before another pillow comes flying at your face followed by the sound of Sam getting out of bed, “Let’s just get on the road, I think I’m scarred for life now.”


	17. Orgasm Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and you have some time off and he decides to do something special for your one year anniversary

You’re asleep, or at least you had been a moment ago, warm and dreaming about something you can’t quite remember. You just know how it felt, happy and safe.

Chapped lips press against your cheekbone, that’s what had woken you up, but your body still wants to sleep. You groan low, readjusting under the covers and you feel his arm tighten around you, his lips smiling against your skin as he presses another kiss to your face, “Mornin’ sweetheart.”

“Uh-uh,” you protest, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and nuzzling against his neck, his scruff scratching your face.

He chuckles low, the vibrations rumbling through you as he kisses right below your ear the best that he can with you wrapped around him, “You can go back to sleep, but I thought I would let you know that Sam is gone for the week.”

You back up enough that your noses are touching and you can look into his green eyes, “Hunt?”

He shakes his head, “Nah, some mini vacation to go to some gallery or something.”

You smile, drifting back towards sleep as you kiss him, “So clothes optional week then?”

Dean laughs, “Sure thing…But I was thinking maybe you’d let me take you out tonight?”

“For our one year?”

“Yeah,” he brushes your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear, his fingers ghosting over your face, “that and I just like taking you out.”

“You’re so cheesy.” You yawn, pressing your face against his as you close your eyes again.

Dean pulls you closer, pressing his lips against the top of your head, mumbling, “You know it.”

____

“Do I seriously need to get this dressed up?” you yell down the hall, fiddling with the sleeves of the black dress again.

You hear Dean’s footsteps and turn as he walks in your room. You can’t help but grimace, this wasn’t what you normally wear. Your makeup is done neatly and your hair looks nice but you aren’t all that confident in it. Give you blue jeans, a hoodie and a messy bun any day, but a dress that didn’t make it to your knees wasn’t in your wheelhouse.

“If you look like that you definitely need to get that dressed up,” Dean smirks, leaning against the door jam. He’s in a black suit, but he’s not clean shaven, his five o’clock shadow growing in strong and you love it. He looks sharp, and goddamn you still don’t know why a man like that is with you but you are so glad he is.

All that, and that isn’t what gets you the most. It is the way he looks at you, like you are the only thing in the world. This unconditional love and adoration so clear on his face.

“You still didn’t tell me where we’re going.”

He smiles, standing upright, “Well c’mon, let’s get going and I’ll show you.”

You purse your lips suspiciously, “Alright.”

He laughs as you walk past him, Dean waiting until you are walking down the hall before wrapping an arm around your waist, “You look gorgeous.”

You giggle, blushing, rolling your eyes, “Well you don’t look too bad yourself.”

He steps up to the Impala, opening the passenger’s door for you, “You know how you never believe me when I tell you you’re beautiful sweetheart?”

You sit, looking up at him as he leans on the door, “Yeah, you always say one day you are going to make me believe it.”

He smiles and winks, “Well today is that day.”

You don’t get a chance to ask him what he means before he closes the door gently. He races around, sliding into his seat and starts the car, tearing out of the garage, making you forget about that for the moment.

He heads outside of Lebanon, down some country roads and you are half tempted to ask where you are going again, why he had told you to dress nice, but you just enjoy the ride, enjoy the time you get to be with him belting out Bob Seger songs at the top of your lungs, laughing uncontrollably when he starts making up his own words.

He pulls into an expensive looking Italian restaurant a few towns later that you don’t recognize, “Here we are.”

“Dean, are you sure?” You ask quietly, taking his hand that he offers.

He scoffs, “Hells yeah, it’s not like we’re actually paying for it. C’mon, let’s go eat and drink some stuff that neither of us can pronounce.”

“Okay,” you smile softly, squeezing his hand as you walk with him.

He walks straight up to the maitre’d, “Two for Winchester.”

The guy in the tux with big rimmed glasses looks up at Dean, his forehead wrinkling as he looks him over and then to you, “Right, sir and ma’am, this way.”

You keep a hold of Dean’s hand through the restaurant and after the guy seats you and leaves you with a menu, you hiss to Dean, “I think I’m a little underdressed.”

Dean shakes his head, “Why? Because bozo looked down his nose?”

You swallow, sitting back, a little self conscious.

Dean smirks, winking, “Plus, I always think you’re a little ‘overdressed’.”

You can’t help but laugh, Dean making you crack and relax. He’s funnier than hell. When the waiter comes over and goes through a wine list, he doesn’t miss a beat, choosing something without hesitation. The only reason you know he is faking his way through is that it is the most disgusting wine you have ever tasted in your life.

“I think I might need some whiskey to wash this down,” you giggle, trying to choke the last bit down.

Dean laughs, cringing as he drinks what is left in his glass, “Lucky for us, I keep that in stock.”

The food comes out and you fall silent, quiet as Dean starts to eat and you pick at your food, “What’s wrong sweetheart?”

You shake your head, “Nothing.”

“Uh-huh,” he’s clearly not convinced, “you wanna try that again?”

You set your fork down, biting your lip, looking away from him for a moment as you fidget in your chair, “I was just thinking about everything.”

“That’s a lot of stuff, you wanna narrow that down a bit?” he teases.

You take a deep breath, playing with your fingers, spinning your ring, “I’m thinking about the last year and how everything has changed, how both of us have changed, how you’ve made me a better person I guess. And I guess how it started and where we are now, sitting in a restaurant where neither of us would ever go to any other day and engaged. Who would have thought?”

“Yeah, I never thought I’d score a girl like you,” Dean reaches across the table, putting his hand over yours, rubbing reassuringly, “You’ve always been pretty damn awesome sweetheart, I didn’t make you any better. You did that all yourself.”

You blush, smiling to yourself before glancing up and meeting his eyes, “Could you be any more of a sap?”

He gives you a small laugh, knowing that’s your way of brushing off the compliment, “Eat your overpriced food before it gets cold.”

You give him a mock salute, giggling as you pick up your fork and dig into the pasta.

_____

“We aren’t going back to the Bunker?” You ask, confused when Dean takes a right out of the parking lot instead of a left.

“Night isn’t over sweetheart,” he reaches across the bench seat, taking your hand in his, “not by a longshot.”

“Where are we going?”

“Wait and see,” he smiles, turning onto a highway.

You scoot over, Dean wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you lean against him. You two don’t say much to each other, but it isn’t like you feel forced to either, it is just this comfortable silence as you enjoy each other’s company.

But you are more than confused when he pulls into this motel with a neon pink sign and red doors that looks like it hasn’t been updated since the eighties, “What are we doing here?”

Dean shrugs, craning his neck so he can see your face, “What are we doing at a motel in the middle of the night?” He teases, “I thought that would be pretty obvious.”

You smack him lightly on the chest, “Well I kinda got that much. But…” You weren’t sure how to word the next part without sounding kinda bitchy. After the five star restaurant you expected something a little more than a pay by the hour motel.

“Why are we at a no star motel?” He chuckles.

You nod shyly, “Yeah.”

He gestures towards it, going to get out of the car, “Well come with me and see…It took me awhile to find a place like this.”

You sit there for a moment, shaking your head. But the flirty smile on his face makes you too damn curious, and you follow him out, “Alright, I’m trusting you Winchester.”

“Trust me enough to make this the best night of your life?” He winks as he pops open the trunk, pulling out two bags.

“I’m pretty sure every night with you is the best night of my life Dean.”

He stops what he’s doing, the bags slipping from his fingers and thumping to the ground as he grabs you, wrapping you up in his arms. His lips catch yours and he kisses you deeply, passionately, until you’re both completely breathless.

“C’mon, let’s go before I take that dress off in the middle of the parking lot, someone might see us.” He mumbles, stealing one more kiss before giving you a little space but not letting go of you.

You smirk, “Cause that’s ever stopped you before.”

“Quiet.” He chuckles, heading for a room.

“Don’t we need to check in?” You ask, confused.

He shakes his head, “Rented a room out for awhile. Didn’t know when we would get time.”

You laugh, realization hitting you, “So Sam didn’t just ‘leave’, you told him to get lost.”

Dean doesn’t admit it but the shit eating grin on his face confirms it.

“Oh my god.” You breathe as you see the inside of the room and it looks like something from a nightmare. The decor is loud shades of red and there are mirrors on the ceiling, and some on the walls, a little too close to the bed to ever be used practically “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope,” he tosses the bags on a chair, “Do you know how long it took me to find a motel that still had mirrors like that?”

“But why?” You are still confused, looking around until you feel his arm wrap around your waist from behind, holding you back against him as he kisses down your neck to your shoulder, the sensation settling in your lower stomach as his lips and scruff move over your skin.

“Because I want you to see what I see.” He murmurs against your skin, placing another kiss there.

Your head snaps up and you meet his eyes in the mirror directly in front of you. He smiles softly, standing up straight but keeping his arms around you, his big frame dwarfing yours, “Don’t look at me sweetheart, look at you.”

You shake your head slowly, unable to look away from the reflection of his intent, olive eyes, “I can’t.”

“Why baby?” his voice is low, his face turning, pressing his lips right below your ear.

“B-because,” you stutter out, “I mean, look at me!”

“I am and I have, and Y/N you are the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“B-but I-I…” you can’t find the right words.

“But what?” He whispers against your skin as he unzips the back of your dress, “You have scars? You look in the mirror and don’t like what you see?”

“Yes,” you breathe as he slips the dress off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet, his hands ghosting over your body, setting your skin on fire.

“Well, I have those too… what do you see when you look at me?”

“Everything I ever want, the man I love.” Your voice is steady, sure.

He cups your chin, pointing you towards the mirror, and you press your eyes shut, uncertain, “Well when I look at you I see all that and so much more baby. Just look, please.”

You swallow hard, taking in a deep breath, forcing yourself to do what he is asking. You make eye contact with yourself, your hesitant y/e/c eyes meeting you. You can see how timid you look, how scared, but that all falls away as Dean’s arms wrap around you, his large hands moving over your body.

You relax back against him, your eyes following his movements, seeing how your skin flushes under his touches.  You like the way you can see his hands clearly, how he squeezes and caresses, how he splays his fingers across your stomach.

He presses his lips right below your ear, “I don’t want you to come until I say.”

“Dean?” He’s not usually like that, the one time you had tried edging it didn’t exactly end how he had been planning.

“I know what I’m doing sweetheart.”

You turn in his arms, wrapping yours around his neck, your fingers threading through and playing with the short hairs on the back of his head, “I know you do, but-…” you trail off nervously. Why did this still happen? You trust him, you love him, but you still can’t get out of your own head sometimes.

“Y/N, we can go home and go to our own bed right now if that’s what you want.”

You stand on your tiptoes, pressing your lips against his, “I don’t want to go home, I just want to be with you.”

He holds you tighter, smiling softly, “I love you sweetheart, don’t ever forget that.”

“I love you too,” you take a half step back, playing at the collar of his jacket as you gather your courage, nodding, “Okay Winchester, do what you do.”

“Do what I do, huh?” He keeps ahold of your elbows, looking over your body playfully. He closes the small distance, tangling his fingers in your hair, his lips crashing against yours. You press your body against his, reveling in it, reveling in the way he makes you feel, forgetting momentarily about why you are so nervous and allow yourself to be consumed by him.

He backs you up slowly until your calves hit the bed, letting you fall back on the mattress with a giggle and a small bounce. You are close enough to the edge that you can hook your heels around the back of his thighs, pulling him towards you. His eyes say the plan was to stay up, but he gives in, bending forward and crawling on top of you, his lips immediately finding your skin.

“Dean,” you moan as he sucks at the skin over your collarbone, making you writhe underneath him.

He stops for a moment, his fingertips brushing over your face, your eyes focused on each other as you both forget how to breathe. He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours, that point of contact grounding you here with him, and you can feel all the emotions left unspoken between the two of you focused there. How much he loves you, how much you belong to each other, with each other. And it is so utterly overwhelming.

“Sorry,” he whispers, pushing himself up, blushing slightly.

You can’t help but smile, taking his face between your hands, “Dean Winchester, I don’t care if any damn thing with you ever goes as planned as long as I get to do it  with you. Okay?”

“Alright, but tonight’s going to,” he rocks back, stepping on the floor, winking, “I’m on a mission.”

You lay there for a moment, your chest heaving as you watch him. He doesn’t move quickly, ditching his jacket, then his pants and his shirt, tossing them over the back of a chair. You unsnap your bra and shimmy out of your panties, kicking them to the floor, careful to avoid your eyes in any of the mirrors.

Dean, only in his boxer briefs, digs through one of the bags as you lay on your stomach, propping your chin on your hand, watching him. That broad expanse of shoulders flecked with freckles, the strong back, the bowed legs, you can’t get enough of him.

A thought flicks through your mind and you don’t have the filter to stop it, “Why do you like doing kinky things to me?” You can’t help the little bit of doubt, even now. When you did straight up sex, or stuff in the heat of the moment, it was fine. But when he planned stuff out like this, you feel like you are praying you will live up to his expectations.

Dean chuckles, turning around, a few things in his hand, “I like doing kinky things _with_  you.” he corrects, “And I’m going to show you why.”

He tosses the stuff in his hand on the nightstand, crawling on the bed next to you, pushing you to your back as he lays on his side beside you, his hand wandering over your bare skin as his lips meet yours in a soft kiss.

His hands guide you to roll and he pulls your back tight against his front, his hard cock pressing through the fabric and against your ass. You can’t help but grind back against him, eliciting a low groan.

Dean holds you close with one arm, his other hand ghosting over your skin, little touches that make you want more as he works his way lower, over your stomach to the juncture of your thighs as his lips press against your neck over and over against.

“I know when you look at yourself,” his voice rings low in your ear, “you see all the things you don’t like. I know you don’t think you’re good enough sometimes. But I want you to look at yourself tonight and try to see you like I see you.”

You nod as he dips his fingers in your folds, inhaling sharply as he brushes over your clit. You turn your head, craning your neck to press your lips against his. You love the way his chapped ones feel against yours, the way he opens up to you and deepens the kiss, momentarily forgetting what he was doing, his fingers moving in time with his lips.

Your eyes flutter open and you momentarily catch your reflection in the mirror above the bed, immediately focusing on Dean instead of your naked body. He doesn’t miss it, but he doesn’t say anything either as he dips two fingers inside your wet entrance, crooking them forward as he pumps them in and out, setting an even rhythm.

“Dean,” you whisper his name as your eyes fall shut, hips rolling, finding a timing with his movements as you reach back, your fingers threading through his hair. Dean works you, slowly, bringing you right up to the edge, right to where there is sweat breaking across your skin and you breaths are coming in short gasps. Right to where your skin feels like it is burning and he pulls his fingers away.

You whine in protest as Dean lets you go, moving away. You roll, watching him as he sits on the edge of the bed, pulling the small vibrator off the nightstand, the one he had used in that hotel in Vegas. Except this time he wasn’t going to make you come until you were begging him to stop. This time, you know you are going to be begging him to let you come.

And it isn’t creepy like you would have thought it would be before you two. It isn’t some power trip thing like you imagined it would be. Like he isn’t going to be mad if you would accidentally come, but you want to see if you can do it, it’s a challenge. And you want to do it for him.

That right there, that is why you two work so well, it’s probably why you love each other so much, and it is probably the reason you two have your little spats. It’s selfless, it’s all about each other. To Dean, you are the only one. For you? He’s it, he’s the only person that can ever and will be able to make you feel this way. Make your heart skip a beat, make you ten kinds of crazy, make you love him more every single day.

He turns back to you, his lips finding yours as he pushes you to your back, his weight resting on you as he kisses you deeply. Too soon, he breaks away, pressing his lips over your face, down your neck, trailing kisses all the way down your body until he settles in between your legs.

You watch him, the anticipation killing you. Your chest heaves as he lifts your knees over his shoulders, wrapping his arms around your thighs, hands running over your stomach. You can’t help but squirm in his grip. Dean glances up at you, this wicked little smirk on his face, “You good?”

“Yeah,” you nod, unintentionally holding your breath, knowing he’s not going to be gentle like he was moments ago. Tonight wasn’t about making love, it was sex, and probably fucking. And you’re so down for that.

He winks, burying his face against your pussy, making your hips jump off the mattress as his scruff burns against your skin. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking roughly.

“F-fuck Dean,” your voice is high pitched, your fingers grip the sheets. His teeth scrape over the sensitive nub, followed by his tongue. Dean alternates, making you shake and scream, but he knows how to keep your right on that edge.

At first he lets you move, but then he tightens his arms, holding you against his mouth despite you thrashing on the bed. You can feel it teetering there on the edge, your orgasm, so close but you push it away, trying not to think about it because he’s not going to let you come anyways. Plus, if he thinks you’re close, he’s going to stop and you don’t want him to ever do that.

But he does, and you hear the vibrator buzzing. He doesn’t give you enough time to process it and suddenly it is against your clit.

“Oh god,” you hiss, trying to pull away but Dean keeps you in place, his calloused hand on your stomach. He keeps it pressed against you, the vibrations making your skin tremble and your eyes force shut.

The pressure builds in your lower stomach, the heat spreading throughout your body as you listen to the buzzing and your own moans, feel Dean move the vibrator around your clit so the aftershocks make it there but it isn’t direct. Fuck, you are going to go crazy before the night is over.

“Jesus sweetheart,” Dean growls, not directly at you, his words more of a reflex. You will your eyes open long enough to see him staring at his work, watching with dark, wanting eyes.

Goddamn that man. What he can make you feel, how he can make you feel, it’s beyond anything you ever thought possible, beyond anything you thought you were capable of.

He drops the vibrator, tossing it to the side and presses his face against you again. You head falls back on the pillows, toes curling. Dean’s mouth open over your pussy, sucking, licking.

He coats his index finger in your slick, dragging it from your entrance down to your ass and you aren’t expecting it but god you want it. Dean’s finger plays there, just barely dipping in to the first knuckle. Your body is so desperate for something to cling to as his tongue plays at your core, it’s too much and not enough.

Suddenly you feel it, right around the edges and you don’t know if you can stop yourself.

“Dean, Dean, Dean….I’m-” You can’t get the words right, too far gone, too high on him, he gets your warning but he doesn’t pull away.

His tongue dips into your soaking entrance, your body squirming, hips bucking, you just want more friction, to feel him against you. And he keeps teasing and teasing, fucking you with his tongue until your brain feels like mush and you are panting like crazy.

You squeeze your thighs together around his ears but he pulls them apart roughly, keeping you spread open for him, “Dean please, please let me.”

You can hear and feel the muffled ‘no’ against you. Fuck, you don’t know…you can’t think. You grip the sheets, clenching your fingers until your knuckles hurt. And you bite down on your tongue, but you aren’t sure that is going to be enough as your body tries to bear down.

And just when you think you can’t hold it off anymore, he presses his tongue flat against your clit and you can’t help but yelp, your eyes snapping open.

Now you understand.

The woman looking back at you is one you can barely recognize. She’s strung out, she’s wild, she’s desperate. And it is hard to believe that it is you.

The way his fingers dig into your hips is hotter than hell, how you can see the way your body gives to him, the way your skin flushes. Then there is the way you move and squirm, the way you shake and tremble as you call out for him. Your chest heaves, filling your lungs with air for the noises you make over and over again.

None of that is what gets you the most.

It’s your face, the way your lips move to say his name. It’s your eyes, the total and complete loss of control, the bliss, the need for him written there. And you know somewhere in your fuzzy brain that if a fraction of that was written on your face one year ago, Dean never had a chance.

And all of this, all of these little things and he is the only one who gets to see this, who gets to be here with you. He does this to you, and he knows it. And even if you might not accept it, you get it, you’re beautiful to him. He doesn’t see the scars and the marks, he sees that need, that connection. He sees you.

You’re so caught up it takes you a second to realize he’s stopped, placing soft kisses to the inside of your thigh. You meet his eyes and he smiles, this small little thing right before he nips at the skin and crawls over you, kissing you fiercely.

But that little moment is gone and you just want him, you want to feel him, you need him. You push impatiently at his boxer briefs, just barely getting them down to his muscled thighs before he is lining the tip of his aching cock up and pushing inside you in one quick movement. He bottoms out, grunting as your pussy clenches and adjusts around him.

Your short fingernails rake his freckled back. You’re determined still to hold off, but you don’t know if you can, “Dean I-”

“I know sweetheart,” he mumbles against your skin, kissing your neck as he starts to move, thrusting, “just a little bit longer.”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak as you bite your bottom lip. You fight it, watching him in the mirror above the bed. The way he rolls his hips, the muscles in his back and shoulders working together. And you see the way you both move so perfectly together. How you anticipate each other’s movements, how you know what each other likes as your hips meet again and again.

Then his hand grabs behind your knee, hiking it over his arm as he picks up the pace, pounding into you. You are unable to keep up and you take what he’s giving you, your hands cradling either side of his face as you focus on each other, unable to look away.

His hips snap furiously, his pelvic bone jutting against your clit, his balls making obscene sounds as they slap off your ass, and it mixes with the almost pornographic moans coming from the two of you.

Dean doesn’t say anything, just grunts and gives you this small nod and you know the game is over and it is just you and him getting lost in each other as he continues to slam into you roughly, taking you higher until your head almost hurts and all your muscles are gripped tight, tense, waiting and praying for release

“Dean,” you yell, your orgasm exploding through you as his thrusts become erratic and he’s unable to keep up an even pace.

“Fuck Y/N,” he grunts, collapsing and holding you against him as his hips buck forward, holding him deep inside you as his cock throbs and spills, your pussy clenching and fluttering around him, pulling out his release.

But it doesn’t stop, it rushes through you wave after wave, the slow build up of tonight coming to it’s peak. And fuck, you can’t hold him tight enough, you can’t do anything but let it consume you, white light behind your eyelids and your breath getting caught in your throat.

You whimper and whine, your hips rolling in the small space between you, fucking yourself, dragging it out, body acting on its own.

“Jesus sweetheart,” you hear him mumble as he watches your desperate body, but it doesn’t really register in your brain, the only thing that does is the fire under your skin and the muscles spasming.

Dean pulls his softening cock from you, replacing it with his first two fingers, your pussy tightening, still fluttering, around them. He curls them forward into your g-spot over and over and your neck locks back, you can’t process anything of this, you are too far gone.

You plant your feet on the mattress, meeting his pace, the heel of his hand pressed against your clit.

“Oh god, oh god…” you chant and plead over and over again. Your hand slides down, wrapping around his forearm, holding as tight as you can as he pushes you to come again, even if you haven’t settled down from the first one.

This one rips through you and it verges on too much. You push his hand away, rolling from him as you press your thighs together, choking on your screams as light explodes in your vision.

You lay on your stomach, panting, trying like hell to settle down, but you swear the aftershocks of that orgasm kick you into another that you can’t come down from.

“Y/N?” His voice is soft.

You shake your head, not sure you can speak.

His hand trails over your back and Dean’s lips press against the skin he just touched, “You alright baby?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. He chuckles, kissing your shoulder again and again, a different spot each time.

Finally, after a few minutes, you can pull in normal breaths and your heart doesn’t feel like it is trying to jump out of your chest, “Thank you for tonight Dean.”

“Good food and sex?” he laughs, trying to brush it off and make a joke of it. It’s such a Dean move.

You roll onto your back, touching his his face with just your fingertips, tracing the lines, “You know what I mean.”

He smiles softly, tilting his head so he can kiss your palm before taking it in his hand and plopping down beside you, pulling you half over his chest, “Yeah I do. We don’t do the date, couple thing nearly enough.”

“Dean, you know I don’t care about that.”

“I know,” he laces his fingers with yours, squeezing, “I jus-…”

“Dean,” you cut him off when you hear the twinge of guilt in his tone, “We are hunters. I’m happy every second I get to spend with you breathing, okay? Nights like tonight, where you prove what a hopeless romantic you are,” you tease, “are bonuses.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then he laughs low, “Hopeless romantic, huh?”

You chuckle, “Yeah, you are way better at this stuff than me. And I think you’ve proved time and time again what a cheesy boyfriend you are.”

“Oh really,” he flips you under him, pinning you, tickling your sides, “And it’s fiance, not boyfriend any more.”

“S-sorry, sorry, s-stop it.” you laugh, screeching accidentally as you struggle to breathe.

“Alright,” He smirks, kissing you softly before rolling back over and you snuggle under his arm and against his warm body, tangling your legs together.

You twist, placing a few small kisses to his chest before settling in, “Dean I want to marry you.”

He chuckles, touching the ring on your hand that is resting on him, “Yeah I think that’s why you’re wearing this.”

“I mean soon,” you whisper and he cups your chin so you are looking at him, his olive eyes searching your face as the grin grows on his.

“Yeah?”

You nod, “Yeah. I guess Y/N Winchester doesn’t sound too bad.”

Dean laughs, but you smile, continuing, “Plus I really do want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

He lays back, squeezing you the best he can, “Call me old fashioned, but that makes me really happy.”

“Hold on?” you tease, “Dean Winchester is happy?”

He half laughs, staring at the ceiling, “With you, always.”


	18. Shower Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and you finish up a hunt and find you have some time to kill thanks to Sam. You come to realize that a you aren’t as over an old hunt as you thought

“I’ll take the ultimate breakfast,” you hand the waitress the menu as she turns to the other side to take Sam’s order. She’s had eyes on him the second he walked in the  door, and she’s been obvious about it since she noticed the seating arrangement: you and Dean pressed against each other in one side of the booth and Sam all by his lonesome on the other.

She walks away after brushing his arm with her hand and Sam turns to see you two both grinning, “Not a word from either of you.”

Dean’s smile grows, “I mean come on man, you could finally pop your cherry.”

Sam grumbles as Dean laughs at his own joke. The three of you had just gotten done with a ghoul hunt last night and are all exhausted. Dean had insisted on breakfast before you make the long run back to the Bunker. It’s going to be a sixteen hour drive, and he wasn’t going to start it on an empty stomach.

You curl up even closer to Dean, sipping your coffee as he unconsciously squeezes his arm that is slung over your shoulder, it’s a reflex. Just like it is when your hand falls down to his thigh, soothingly rubbing back and forth slowly.

He keeps teasing Sam as you zone out, still sleepy, six o’clock had come way too soon and you still have the warm and fuzzy feeling in your gut from your and Dean’s talk last night.

____

“So you said soon, when are you thinking?” Dean asks you out of the blue as another episode of Hogan’s Heros starts.

It takes you a second to realize what he is talking about, “Oh, um, soon.”

He chuckles, “I was kinda hoping for a timeline there.”

You shrug, curling closer to him, “Like not tomorrow, but not next year either. A few months? What were you thinking.”

“I was thinking what about next week?”

You glance up quickly, surprised and he is smiling at you softly, his olive eyes warm, “What?”

“Yeah,” his cheeks get a little red, “I was kinda calling around. And it’s still up to you baby, but I wanted to see what was out there, and you know that church on that gravel road off of Highway 36?”

“Uh-huh.” It was one of those that people didn’t think existed anymore, a little white one in the middle of nowhere and looked like it belonged in a card or something.

“They said we could do it there if we wanted.”

You giggle, poking his ribs, “What happened to quickie in Vegas?”

Dean swallows, a sheepish grin on his face,  “We can still do that if you want, I just don’t want you to miss out on something because you think it will put me out or I don’t want it. I could care less if you’re in a white dress or sweatpants….I want to do this with you, the how is up to you.”

You think for a moment, and you know that this is his way of saying he wants to do this right. He does care, but he doesn’t want to put you out if it truly isn’t something you want. Honestly, you could care less where it is, and even though the thought of sweatpants is a lot less intimidating than a dress, you want this to be special and you want to remember it. Because who would have ever thought either of you would ever live long enough to make this step, “Let’s do it. I mean, I’m going to have to go lift a dress, but I think I can get that accomplished.”

He relaxes underneath you, his fingers playing in your hair as you rest on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He’s warm and after this hunt, you just want to fall asleep here with him holding you close.

_____

“Knock it off,” his voice is low in your ear, catching you off guard, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Huh?” You pull back a little, confused.

“Your hand’s getting a little close there sweetheart and we have an all day drive.” He mumbles, just loud enough for you to hear, pressing his lips to right under your ear despite being in the middle of a restaurant.

“Get a room you two,” Sam grumbles.

“You don’t like it Sammy, the door is right there,” Dean nods towards the entrance, “it’s not my fault you are in the middle of an epic dry spell. What’s it been, four years, five?”

“It has not!” Sam snaps and you catch the edge of the whiny little brother voice. The one that he falls into when he’s had enough of Dean being a shit. And for some reason, it always just drives Dean on.

“Well maybe if you would sack up and ask out that waitress,” he teases, “it wouldn’t be.”

“Stop it with the waitre-.”

“Well here we are now,” she accidently cuts him off and you see Sam sit straight up, looking uncomfortable and embarrassed, straightening up his shirt. He definitely thinks she’s cute, you can tell by the way he uncomfortably rubs the back of his neck when she sets the food in front of him, and smiles too shyly.

“You know my brother here,” Dean’s got this sly smile on his face while Sam’s is pure horror, “is wondering what time you get off.”

She turns a little red, glancing at Dean and then to Sam, “After lunch, probably around two.”

Sam goes to say something, but Dean cuts in, “Well that will work for Sammy.”

“It’s Sam,” he jumps in, bitch-facing his brother then looking at the waitress.

She smiles, playing with her apron a bit, “See you at two?”

“Sure thing.”

She walks away, glancing back over her shoulder once before disappearing around the corner. Dean starts laughing and Sam looks annoyed, “I thought we were leaving.”

Dean shrugs, unwrapping his arm from around you so you both can eat, “One more night here doesn’t sound so bad.”

You scarf down your food, then make a reach for some of Dean’s bacon. He smacks your hand lightly, “Get out of ‘ere.” He says through a mouthful.

You teasingly reach again and he grabs your wrist, “Keep your hands to yourself or I will tie ‘em up.”

“I’d like to see you try Winchester,” you wink, snaking your other hand out and snatching a piece. He doesn’t fight it, just half laughs and rolls his eyes, putting in another order of bacon when the waitress comes by again to fill coffees.

Sam chuckles as he pushes his pancakes around in the syrup, “Well I know he loves ya Y/N, anyone else stole bacon off his plate he would have stabbed them.”

“Just you lil’ brother.”

“Whatever,” Sam sighs, “but god, I think you two are the only people on earth that eat that much.”

You roll your eyes, “Number one…I’m freaking starving.”

“You’re always hungry,” Sam laughs.

“Shut-up…And number two, there is always room for bacon.”

Dean chuckles, “That’s my girl.”

You smile at him and he dips down to give you a quick kiss, Sam making gagging noises from the other side of the booth.

When the waitress comes back Dean sets the plate in front of you, “There, now keep your hands over there.”

You giggle, “You never complain about where I put my hands any other time. Especially when-”

“Jesus you two!” Sam groans, pushing his plate away which Dean snatches up and scoops onto his.

“Do you want any sweetheart?” He asks.

“I got bacon, I’m good.”

“So what do you want to do now that Sammy’s got a date,” his voice is joking, provoking Sam who just sits back, arms crossed.

“Hmm,” you purse your lips, “Well, most of what I want to do involves a bed and-”

“Okay that’s enough imagery for me, thanks.” Sam snaps.

You smirk, “I was just going to say and laying around watching Netflix. Geez Sam, get your head out of the gutter.”

Dean’s shaking, trying not to bust out laughing beside you as Sam rolls his eyes, “Yeah, sure.”

You leave Sam alone after that having tortured him enough for one sitting. It doesn’t take long to finish up, Dean leaving the money and a tip for the waitress. She catches Sam on the way out, giving him her phone number.

You guys check in at a different motel than the one you guys had been staying at the last week, Sam scampering off and Dean and you deciding to waste the day walking around town.

You do, walking down the sidewalk with your fingers laced through his, him leading half the time, you the other, pulling each other along when you see something interesting. Mostly, you guys just enjoy the sun and the quiet. Very, very rarely do you get an actual day off with no agenda, not looking for the next hunt, it’s nice albeit a little weird.

He squeezes your fingers after you’ve been quiet for awhile, “What are you thinking about?”

You shrug, “Nothing.”

He chuckles low, letting your hand go, slinging his arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer, “Bullshit.”

You laugh, wrapping your arm around his waist, using his warmth to fight the chilly fall air, “Just how in a week we are going to be married. It’s weird to think about, kinda surreal I guess.:

“Getting cold feet?” He teases.

You shake your head, “Nah, I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. I just-”

But you just don’t get to finish that sentence as he pulls you to a halt, holding you close, his lips crashing against yours. You smile against his lips, giggling as he nips at your bottom one, tugging, “Knock it off, we’re in public.”

“I don’t care,” he murmurs, kissing you again, this time you give against him, letting yourself get lost in him.

He breaks away first, his hands cradling either side of your face, his eyes bright. You smile, “I love you more than anything Dean.”

He takes a shaky breath, pressing his forehead against yours, “I love you too.”

You giggle, pecking his lips quickly, “Well I’d hope so.”

“Smartass.” He starts walking again, keeping you close beside him, “Where do you want to go after?”

“I figured back to the hotel, grab some pizza-”

“I meant after we get hitched.”

“Oh,” you hadn’t really thought about it. Other than the annual Vegas trip, you guys never really took days off, “I-I really don’t know, I haven’t thought about it. Where do you want to go?”

“Like I want to say somewhere quiet in the middle of nowhere but I feel like in two days we’d be climbing the walls.”

You know it’s true, both of you are used to being busy. Even though you had a Netflix binge day here and there, it wasn’t common, “Just roadtrip it until we feel like coming back?”

He purses his lips, thinking, “Yeah.”

But you know what he’s thinking, how long will it be before you stumble across a hunt? Three days? Maybe a week if you are lucky.

“Alright I’ll think of something,” you say confidently. Dean raises an eyebrow but you nod, you’re going to figure this out, even if it is just an okay motel in the middle of nowhere. There is going to be some sort of plan. You have a week to figure it out, that’s plenty of time.

Suddenly he tugs you towards an ACE Hardware, “Dean what the hell?”

“I just remembered we were short on spray paint. C’mon, it will take five minutes.”

“Then pizza and Netflix?”

He chuckles, holding the door open for you, “I promise.”

“Good, cause I’m hungry.”

You follow him down the aisles, damn paint is always in the back of these places. He pokes you in the side as you guys pass something, stopping dead by these padded clamps used to hold something while you glue it and he starts playing with them. Then he gets a wicked grin.

“Hell fucking no,” you laugh, covering your chest with crossed arms as you see where his brain is going.

He smirks, “Oh why not?”

“Okay hot shot, you first then.” You raise an eyebrow and he shrugs, going to put it on over his shirt just to prove a point and you slap his hands away.

“We are in the middle of a store,” you hiss.

He shrugs, putting them back on the shelf, “No one’s in here but us.”

“You’re such a dork.” you roll your eyes and keep walking down the aisle.

You see steel rings in varying sizes and you grab the smallest one, tossing it to him, “There, I think that one is about your size.”

He scoffs, “You and I both know that’s not true sweetheart…I think this would be right.”

He grabs the biggest one, and it’s way too big. You can tell by his playful grin, he knows. You giggle, “Here, this one?”

It’s only like a half inch in diameter and he busts out laughing, “You’re such a shit.”

“Come on!” you joke, as he keeps walking down the aisle, “That was funny.”

“Not even a little bit…” He wanders off in another direction and it becomes this game of what can you double use as sex toys, even if you really aren’t going to do anything with them, it’s fun to get  the reaction out of each other.

Until Dean comes to some rope, holding it out and wiggling his eyebrows. You smile, “Go ahead.”

He cocks his head, not sure if you are serious or not.

You shrug, “We had a lot of fun the last time we tied each other up.”

“Yeah, and you said not again for awhile.”

You chuckle, “Well it’s been awhile.”

He smiles to himself, grabbing a pre-measured cord. You grab his shoulder, standing on tiptoes to kiss his cheek and whisper, “You might want to grab a few.”

Dean smirks, shaking his head, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you up for a deeper kiss, “You’re awesome, you know that?”

You give him a playful kiss on the tip of his nose, “That’s why you love me.”

_______

Your bare leg is hooked over Dean’s, the pizza mostly gone beside him as you sit under his arm watching reruns of some medical show against the head of the bed, both of you in underwear and Dean’s old band tees.

You giggle, “Have we figured out what this is even called yet?”

“No, the last title card I was paying for pizza and your lazy ass was sleeping.” He squeezes your shoulder, kissing the top of your head.

You poke him in the ribs and Dean jumps, “I was tired and you were warm…And this show kinda sucks.”

You snuggle up against him closer, if that is even possible. He smiles, craning his neck to kiss your forehead and then your cheek, then blowing a raspberry against your neck.

“Dean!” You squeal, trying to push him away, giggling as he nips at the skin, blowing another.

“What’s wrong?” He laughs, moving over you, pinning you to the bed, your wrists by your head as he keeps alternating between nipping and blowing raspberries, making you laugh uncontrollably, squirming underneath him, trying to catch your breath.

“D-Dean!” You gasp, barely able to breath through the laughter.

“I can’t understand you Y/N.” he teases, his scruff adding to the sensation.

You wrap your legs around his waist, twisting your wrist, throwing him off balance and flipping him so you’re straddling his stomach. The initial surprise on his face is replaced by a cocky ass grin, his fingers still laced through yours, squeezing slightly, “Just so you know sweetheart, it’s fucking hot that you’re a badass.”

“Shut up,” you lean down and kiss him, biting at his bottom lip and tugging on it before deepening the kiss, your body relaxing on his.

Your fingers loosen, letting his hands go so you can balance yourself and touch his face as you deepen the kiss, pressing against him, your lips sliding so easily, so perfectly against one another.

You pull back and he groans low, chasing the kiss, getting to brush your lips one more time before you are out of reach, “You wanna do some kinky shit?”

He laughs, “God you suck at come ons.”

You grin, trying to contain the giggle, “Well do you?”

“Hells yeah…but first.” He sits up quickly, you sliding down onto his lap as his lips crash against yours again and you are kissing through giggles and fits of laughter.

Deans fingers play at the back of your shirt and you break contact long enough for him to get it over your head. He tries to kiss you again but you tilt your head, his lips instead finding your neck as you tear at his shirt, Dean not cooperating with you until you let out a small huff.

“You need something sweetheart?”

“I need that damn shirt off.”

He sucks a dark mark over your collarbone, making you shudder, “You could’ve just asked.”

You jerk at the fabric, pushing it up to his chest, Dean tearing it the rest of the way over his head, tossing it somewhere in the room. You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him with everything you have as you grind against the growing bulge in his pants. Dean groans low against your lips, kissing you back desperately, finding a steady, needy rhythm with you.

You break away, pressing your lips against his jaw, down the skin of his neck, nipping at his shoulder, Dean’s hands wandering over your back, tightening when you hit a spot that drives him crazy.

“Lay back,” you whisper in his ear and he seems hesitant for a moment, but when you kiss the soft skin right below he lets himself fall back against the pillow, watching through dark eyes as your run your fingers over his bare chest, lightly raking your nails over the skin, watching as it turn slightly red.

His breaths come in big gasps, his chest rising and falling, his stomach muscles jumping when you get to them. You lean down over him, dragging your lips over his skin, taking your time, Dean staying as still as he can for you.

You kiss the soft part of his stomach, tracing old scars with your tongue, making him hiss when you pull the skin between your teeth, “Y/N.”

You smile, hooking your fingers through the waistband of his boxer briefs, slowly pulling them down, his hard cock springing free. You get the fabric most of the way down his thighs before you’re too impatient, scraping your teeth over his hipbone, you fingers just barely grazing over his length.

“F-fuck,” he chokes, and you glance up through your lashes, met with his intense green eyes focused on you.

You work your mouth along his stomach, pulling away so your warm breath fans over his cock, making it jump in anticipation. You rest your hands on his thighs, gripping them as you run your tongue over the underside vein, slowly, all the way to the tip as you watch his reaction. And god, it’s so fucking worth it, the way he bites his bottom lip, the way his chest muscles tighten. Fuck, is he amazing.

You grasp the base in your hand, teasing the leaking tip with your tongue before you slowly sink down, just taking the head in your mouth, swirling your tongue. Dean groans low, reaching for you, his fingertips brushing against your face instead of tangling in your hair, his way of letting you know you’re in charge of right now. You hollow your cheeks, moving your hand to take him until he’s pushing at your throat, your nose tickling the hairs at the base, and you have no chance to breath but you hold it as his hips roll for as long as you can.

“Please Y/N, f-fuck,” he begs, his voice strained. You pull back then sink down again, hollowing your cheeks, suppressing your gag reflex as his stomach muscles tighten.

He tastes amazing, slightly salty, but just more something uniquely Dean, precum leaking against your tongue. You cup his balls in your hand, flexing your fingers, rolling them, his hips jerking off the mattress as his cock twitches in your mouth.

Dean tries to warn you, you can decipher it through the incoherent groaning that he’s going to come. But it just drives you on, makes you wet knowing you’re getting him off like this. You bob faster, spit coating him and dripping from the corners of your mouth as you take him as deep as you possibly can.

Dean’s entire body practically convulses as he repeats your name over and over, mixed with ‘fucks’ and ‘shits’. His cock throbs against your tongue, warm come coating your mouth and throat as you work him through his orgasm.

He trembles under you, panting hard as you release him, placing soft kisses to his hipbone and stomach as he tries to catch his breath, “Fuck sweetheart.”

You smile, crawling up his body, his hands wrapping around your arms and pulling you, his mouth crashing against yours even though he can barely breathe. It’s all teeth and tongue and desperation.

Dean tugs on your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth until it pops back, leaving you chuckling as you lean down to kiss him again.

“C’mere,” he mumbles, grabbing right below your ass, guiding you up over him until your knees rest on either side of his head. He cranes his neck, the tip of his nose running up the crotch of your panties, followed by the pressure of his tongue, just barely there.

You shudder as his fingers hook in the fabric, shoving it to the side, his warm breath fanning over your soaked pussy. You groan, squirming in his arms as you feel the pressure on your hip, hear the rip and another pair of panties bites the dust.

“Dean,” you try to chide but are only met with an amused chuckle.

“I’ll get you more.”

“And then you’ll just tear those too!”

“Mhmm,” he mumbles against your slick folds, his lips playing against them. He parts you with his tongue, pulling you down on his mouth so he can bury his face against your pussy..

“D-dean,” you moan, your eyes falling closed as your hips rock, letting the pleasure overtake you.

Dean’s tongue moves from your entrance to your clit, sucking the sensitive bud between his lips, rolling it. And god, you had already been wound up from getting him off, now with him focusing on you with that sinful mouth? You are going mad.

You shout, your hips moving faster against his mouth, trying to find some friction, but he holds you down, tight against him, mouth setting your skin on fire, making sweat break out across it, “F-fuck.”

You grab his hands, gripping them with everything you have as you yell his name, verging on screaming as he eats you out. Fuck, that tongue that moves from your clit to your entrance, flicking in and out, then back again. Those lips that part and slurp and suck against you. Fuck, just fuck.

His tongue flattens against your clit and you come undone, entire body shaking, back arching as Dean’s tongue keeps moving, pushing you higher and higher. You come hard against his mouth, your body falling into it, your pussy clenching. It takes your breath away, and the short gasps that you do get in aren’t enough to keep your brain from feeling fuzzy and high.

Dean lets you go and your body slumps, falling to the mattress beside him as you desperately try to keep your fluttering heart and panting breaths under control, but your fluttering pussy has other ideas. He rolls to his side, touching your face gently, nose to nose with you before he leans in and kisses you, smiling against your lips.

You deepen it, tasting yourself on his lips as you groan. His fingers tangle in your hair, holding you there as he kisses you desperately, pulling away too soon, but that smile, that Dean smile, still plastered on his face.

“You wanna do some kinky shit?” He barely gets the words out without laughing.

You giggle, kissing him one more time before rolling off the bed, “Duh.”

You walk to the table, grabbing the ropes out of the bag from the hardware store. Dean’s arms wrap around you from behind, his lips finding the crook of your neck, “What are you thinking sweetheart?”

You shrug, turning in his arms, “Dealer’s choice…Get creative Winchester.” You tease, holding the ropes up to his chest. He laughs low, grabbing them before taking a step back, his forehead crinkling as he thinks.

He looks back up at you, his lips pursing before breaking into a sly smile, “Okay, take a seat sweetheart.”

You pull out a chair, sitting down as he kneels in front of you, wrapping the rope around your ankle. You groan, “There’s a lot of teasing coming, isn’t there?”

You catch the smile even though he doesn’t look up at you, “A lot of teasing and a lot of coming.”

You take a deep breath as he finishes the other ankle, kneeling between your knees and looking at you, his olive eyes filled with excitement and love. You take your free arms and wrap them around the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

He chuckles, “Knock it off.”

You smile smugly, Dean’s hand wrapping around your wrist and pulls it behind your back, grabbing the other one too. Your stomach drops a little, and you chalk it up to excitement, to hunter instincts. But you don’t know if you’ve ever had this feeling before and you can’t quite place it.

Dean stands up, coming around in front of you, kneeling back down, his hands wandering over your thighs “Give it a shot.”

“Good,” you test your arms and your ankles, feeling the rope. Something isn’t right but you can’t place it. Your heart isn’t thumping in your chest, it is racing and then fluttering erratically. You aren’t panting in anticipation, you are struggling to get any air into your lungs. This isn’t right, this isn’t how you normally feel, what is happening?

Dean’s hands over your skin doesn’t set a fire, it’s goosebumps and not the good kind, the kind you get when you’re on a bad hunt as his fingers move up your thigh and to your pussy, teasing at your folds. What the fuck is wrong with your? Dean, between your legs, looking at you like this? Usually you are turned on beyond belief, but not right now. What the fuck?

Then that medical show you were watching, someone resets a bone and even though you can’t see it, that snap, that sickening crack makes your entire body tremble and shake. You can’t take it anymore as pure panic settles in, the memories and the pain coming back in waves, “Dean! Dean! Stop, Dean!”

He’s confused, unsure eyes meeting yours, probably thinking you mean for him to stop teasing you until he sees your face. And you feel cold and faint, “Red Dean, fuck, red.”

“Fuck,” he hisses, trying to get up and untie you but you are struggling, trying to escape, rocking the chair, “please sweetheart you have to stop moving…Baby, I’m right here please.”

“Dean!” you yell, fighting hard and you don’t know why, all you know is that you need to get out of these, now.

“Hold on sweetheart, you tip that chair you are going to hurt yourself,” he searches wildly, but you barely see it as your mind goes blank with the fear.

Suddenly your hands are free and you don’t think, standing too quickly, feet still tied and falling forward, the chair tumbling with you, cracking off your back.

“Fuck Y/N!” Dean’s voice is verging on panicked, like he doesn’t know what to do. You don’t know what to do, you don’t even know what the hell is happening as you pull away from his grasp, backing against the wall, breath coming in short gasps as you push back against the plaster, tears streaming down your face.

Dean stands five or so feet away, face completely helpless. He doesn’t know what to do, he’s afraid to even move right now, “Y/N?”

But you don’t answer, your whole body shaking violently as you try and hold yourself together. You are just living it over and over again, almost dying that day the demon had you, using you as bait for Dean and you can’t stop seeing it, feeling it, again and again.

Dean saved you, you tell yourself. You are okay now. What the hell is happening, why can’t you control yourself?

“D-dean?” you choke out, sobbing.

“I’m right here.” And you look up and he’s terrified, his face contorted, “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you shake your head back and forth, tears streaming uncontrollably as you rush towards him, desperately searching for comfort, realizing he doesn’t know what’s going on inside your crazy head. You grab his outstretched hands and Dean wraps you in his arms, pulling you against him as you keep crying, making god awful noises.

He pulls you enough so he can sit back on the bed, pulling you onto his lap, cradling you in his arms, holding you tight against his chest as he rubs your arm reassuringly, as he repeats over and over, “I’m so sorry Y/N.”

His hands travel over your body and somewhere in your fuzzy mind you realize he’s making sure you aren’t hurt, that everything is where it should be, “I’m f-fine.”

Dean’s breathing picks up, his arms wrapping tighter around you, “Talk to me sweetheart. Please.”

“I-I can’t settle down,” you choke, as you start feeling the pain again like it’s happening right now again.

He buries his face in your hair, “Just breathe baby.”

“I-I’m s-s-s…” you start hyperventilating

“Goddammit,” he hisses, taking your face between his hands, “You’re okay, I’m right here.”

You bite down on your lip until it bleeds, trying to stop as you reach out and touch his face, taking it between your hands, mimicking him as he rests his forehead against yours. You can feel how tense he is, how unsure and it kills you that you can’t force this back.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling yourself to him, burying your face against his neck as his arms circle you. You mold yourself against him, letting his warmth fight off whatever the hell this is.

“Please say something Y/N, please,” he’s begging, voice tight and you can feel his tears, wet against your bare skin.

You’re still shaking, refusing to let go of him, “Th-that demon that took me after Vegas. J-.” you croak, losing your words.

Dean’s arms flex, holding you tighter, with everything he has, “That’s how he had you tied up, isn’t it?”

You nod against him.

“Christ, I’m sorry Y/N. I didn’t think-.”

“Then there was that snap on the TV and it felt like my shoulder was breaking again,” you sob, and you have no idea how he even understands you as you press your face harder against him, “I-I don’t know why…”

“It doesn’t matter sweetheart. Shh, shhh, it’s just you and me.” His voice is calm despite the fact that every muscle in his body is tense.

You cling to him, holding on with everything you’ve got. At some point you stop crying, soon after that you stop shaking. Your arms start to hurt, where that chair hit you in the back, it’s sore.

You let go of him a little, hesitantly glancing up at him. Dean’s looking back, green eyes brimmed red, his jaw clenched and he swallows, not saying a word.

“Dean-” you don’t know what to say, how to tell him what’s going through your head, but as soon as the words fall past your lips, he exhales heavily, his arms loosening around you.

“Fuck Y/N, I’m-”

“Please don’t apologize Dean, please, please. It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah this,” he grabs your wrists, and you see the redness there from when you had been pulling with everything you had, “this is my fault.”

“Jesus Dean, no,” you crawl and squirm in his arms, straddling his lap, “Dean, I did that to myself. You-”

“I should have seen it, I knew something was off but I didn’t, baby I had no idea…” God, he’s beating himself up, blaming himself.

You hold his face between your hands, “Dean, I’ve never, ever had anything worse than nightmares before. I didn’t think and I think it was just everything combined.”

He shakes his head, his arms wrapping around your back and pulls you to him, “No, I should have seen it.”

“Dean…”

He scofffs.

“I’m good now, I promise. It was just a panic attack or someth-”

“And I didn’t fucking see it!” He snaps, grimacing and closing his eyes, rubbing his face, “How am I supposed to be there for you if I can’t tell you are having a fucking panic attack?”

“What?” You’re confused, his eyes meeting yours, a tear spilling over that you wipe away with your thumb, “Dean, talk to me.”

He half smiles before looking away, “I’m supposed to protect you, right? How can I do that when I hurt you?”

“You didn’t hurt me Dean, you saved me. That demon hurt me, not you. You did everything that you could, both then and tonight.” You run your fingers in his short hair, holding his eyes with yours. You love him, and you hate to see him beat himself up, “I love you Dean, that’s never going to change.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” you say softly, “I’m okay though.”

His jaw clenches again, and you can see, hell, you can feel how much he hates himself right now.

“Dean,” you say softly.

“No, don’t.” His voice is low, coated in pain.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t try to make me feel better about it.”

You force a smile, pressing a small kiss to his lips, “I have to, it’s in the job description.”

He half chuckles, “I don’t remember seeing that.”

“It was in the fine print.”

“Uh-huh,” you can feel him relax slightly, nuzzling his face against the crook of your neck, “Are you alright Y/N? Really?”

“Yeah, I mean that was scary as hell, and I didn’t know what was happening to me but I’m okay now.” You reassure him.

Dean slowly looks back to you and you can tell he’s struggling with whatever he is about to tell you. You touch his face gently and he leans into it, sighing, “You scared the shit out of me, I didn’t know what to do cause there wasn’t anything to kill.”

You understood that, so much. It is probably why you had freaked out so bad. Monsters attacking you? Piece of cake. Nightmares? Walk in the park because once you woke up you could tell yourself it was just a dream. But your own mind attacking you like that? Making you vulnerable, making you lose control? It’s up there on the list of terrifying things you’ve faced.

“I know Dean, I’m sorry.” You’re on the verge of crying again, feeling terrible about the whole thing. You’d ruined your night, you’d scared the hell out of Dean and you now felt exhausted and like shit from being an emotional wreck.

He pushes your hair away from your face, his hands holding your face between them, “You never told me what actually happened in there, just that he broke your shoulder.”

You swallow, focusing on his freckles rather than his eyes, “He just kept talking, talking about how I was just bait. And then he kept beating me and beating me until I felt like it was over. It wasn’t like the time before where I can’t remember most of it, I remember all of it. And then I heard you yelling for me and he snapped my shoulder and- I don’t know.”

He’s quiet for a moment, “Why didn’t you tell me to stop sooner?”

“I didn’t think that it would bring it back, I wasn’t even sure something was wrong until that stupid noise on that stupid show. I honestly think if that noise wouldn’t have happened or if I would have been tied up any other way, everything would have been fine…I was actually really looking forward to whatever we were going to do after the hardware store.”

He smiles softly, not saying anything as he shifts underneath you, pulling you up the bed with him, laying back against the pillows with you half sprawled over him. He hasn’t settled down completely, neither have you, but you know you are both in an okay place for now.

You both lay there, alternating between staring at each other and staring at the empty space. Neither of you are quite ready to go to sleep, neither willing to relax completely either. You’d never felt that scared, even when you’ve been tortured. And you know Dean doesn’t like feeling helpless, especially when it comes to you, and you’d made him feel that way.

2AM passes on the clock.

“Dean?” You whisper, barely audible.

“Hmm?”

“I don’t think I can sleep if you are waiting on me.”

“Nah, I’m a little wound up too. Here…” He adjusts, moving you so he’s pressed up against your back, his arm wrapped around your waist as he spoons you, his face burying in your hair.

Another hour passes, then two, and you doze off, pretty certain that Dean does too, his breath coming steady and deep, fanning over your shoulder.

You don’t dream, hell you don’t sleep hard enough to, too worried about him. Though, the next thing you know it is 5:22AM and Dean is awake, his morning salute pressed against your ass.

You wiggle in his arms and sure enough his green eyes meet yours, soft and worried.

“Sorry,” he whispers and you know on the surface it’s for you waking up to him hard against you, but you could care less about that. What makes your heart clench is how deep that apology goes, that he’s apologizing for last night still.

“Stop it,” you roll on top of him, fully resting on his chest, looking at his face in the dim light.

He reaches up, brushing your hair away from your eyes, “Sweetheart…”

“No, knock it off.”

He doesn’t say anything else and you lean against his touch before leaning down and placing a kiss on his bare chest. His fingers tangle in your hair as you repeat the motion again and again. Dean wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you up to eye level, his lips finding yours. And it isn’t really a kiss, not right away, it’s your lips resting against each other, your warm breaths fanning over each other’s faces.

Then you deepen it, ever so slightly, waiting for him to respond, which he does almost instantly. He holds you so tight it almost hurts as his lips move gently with yours. His arms are like vices, and they are never going to let go, and you know that, you know it in your bones.

“C’mon,” you whisper, pushing away from him and standing up, holding your hand out. He hesitates, glancing between your outstretched fingers and your face, uncertain.

Finally, he takes your hand, walking behind you to the bathroom where you start the shower, turning while it warms up to run your fingers over his bare chest. You look up at him, his eyes guarded, and you can feel the guilt radiating off him in waves. He wants to touch you, to hold you but he’s afraid to. Dammit.

You shove the curtain to the side, Dean closing it as he steps in behind you.his hand carefully placed on your waist as you turn to face him under the hot spray, “Please Dean. I’m good, I swear. I’m so sorry I scared you.”

He shakes his head, “I sho-”

“No!” You shake your head, wrapping your arms around his waist, pulling yourself closer so your bodies are pressed against one another, “Let me ask you this…Will you ever miss it again?”

“”Not in a million years.” He grumbles.

You put up your hands, shrugging, “Then it is in the past, we learn from it,  we move forward.”

He chuckles, touching you face, brushing the wet hair back, “Since when did you start going all Mufasa on this?”

You giggle, reaching up and threading your fingers through his short hairs, “It’s Rafiki, and the dude has a point.”

He smiles softly, not meeting your eyes, but not looking away from you either, “I just-I’ve never wanted to hurt you Y/N.”

You can tell he struggles to tell you that, to admit how helpless he’s feeling right now. You stand on tiptoes, giving him a small kiss, “I know that, and you didn’t. That demon hurt me, Dean Winchester did not.”

He wraps his arms around you, holding you tight to his chest as the water sprays over you both, slowly washing away last night, “It scares me how much I love you sometimes sweetheart.”

You feel his words settle in your chest, your heart clenching at the reality of them, “And that’s why I’m not even a little bit worried about next week.”

He buries his face against the crook of your neck, kissing the skin, his body relaxing in your arms. He tilts his head to press his lips against yours and you tilt your head, not thinking and the water hits you square in the face, you jump back in surprise.

You’re in total shock, standing there unable to move until Dean starts choking, trying to hold back the laughter until he can’t. His entire body shakes, his eyes crinkling, “Your f-face.”

You shake your head and he closes the small distance, his hands gripping your elbows, pulling your body against his as he shakes, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. You run your fingers over his wet skin, feeling the muscles under your fingers.

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” you grumble, a little embarrassed, but mostly just happy he’s being more himself.

“Nope,” he dips his face, catching your lips with his. He keeps his body between you and the spray as his lips move against yours, his hands wandering over your skin.

You touch his face gently, “We good?”

Dean looks aways for a moment, gives this half laugh, the first real smile crossing his lips since last night. He turns, kissing the palm of your hand, “We’re good. I promise.”

“Good,” you smirk, “because that’s,” you glance down to where his hard cock is trapped between your bodies, “getting a little hard to ignore.”

He chuckles, backing you up against the wall, “I don’t know, shower sex hasn’t ever gone great for us.”

You shrug, unable to stop smiling as you look up into his shining eyes, “I’m sure you’ve got something up your sleeve.”

His large hand runs over your side, down your hip to the back of your thigh. You let him pull your leg up, slowly hiking it over his hip, letting yourself lean back against the wall. He bends his knees, his cock sliding against your slick folds.

Dean teases, his cock moving in time with his hips, parting your lips, sliding against your clit, making you weak in the knees. You grip his shoulders, relying on him to keep your balance as you moan, your hips bucking in time with yours.

“Dean, please,” you moan, tangling your fingers in his wet hair, playing with the short strands. He smirks, his hand leaving you for a moment to pump his hard cock, lining the tip up with your entrance and slowly pushing in, inch by agonizingly slowly inch, the motion taking your breath away.

Dean presses his forehead against yours as he bottoms out, your fingers digging into his scalp at the fullness, at the closeness, “Breathe sweetheart.”

You smile softly, shaking your head slowly. He chuckles, his lips finding yours over and over again, small kisses as his cock twitches within you. You shake despite the hot water and the steam filled air, “Move Dean, please.”

“Just don’t let go,” he teases and you’re brought back to the last time you tried this, you and him taking a tumble and getting a few bruises in the process.

“Never,” you whisper, finding his lips as his hips start to roll, just barely dragging his cock in and out of your pussy. The normal slap of skin on skin amplified by the water of the shower.

He picks up the pace as your lips move against one another, sliding, going slower and slower until your moaning into each other’s mouths, taking in short, sharp gasps of air.

Your pussy flutters around his cock and your head falls back against the wall, reveling in the way he makes you burn, makes you buzz right below the surface, makes that fire in your belly grow, “G-god Dean.”

His mouth finds your neck, sucking at the sensitive skin, making your brain go blank. You can’t help but whine, your pussy clenching around his cock. He nips at the spot right under your ear, “You’re so close baby.”

“Dean,” you whimper, holding him as close as you can and by some miracle his hips keep snapping against yours as he hikes your leg higher, hooking his elbow under your knee until he’s supporting most of your weight, your toes barely on the wet floor.

You’re limp in his arms, unable to gain leverage, taking what he’s willing to give you as he picks up the pace, long, pounding thrusts that leave you biting your bottom lip to keep from screaming and waking the whole damn motel.

He moves faster, erratically, bearing down on his own end as the obscene, wet smacks fill the small space, mixing with his grunts and your moans. HE shoves you harder against the wall, burying himself in you, grinding his pelvic bone against your clit and it sends you tumbling over the edge. A sharp cry passes your lips, “Dean, fuck- Dean.”

“Y/N,” he groans in response, your name a plea as he keeps pushing you against the wall, his cock throbbing inside of you, spilling into you fluttering pussy as he shudders against you.

You haven’t caught your breath yet, but you force your head up, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he pants, softening inside you. He sighs at the contact, waiting until you pull away before setting you back on the floor, gently keeping his hands on you until he’s satisfied your shaking legs will hold you.

“See? Not a disaster,” you lace your fingers through his.

He squeezes your hand, “Yeah…You ready to get cleaned up and blow this town?”

You nod, “Yeah we have a wedding to plan.”

He spins you around slowly and you hear the shampoo bottle pop open, “Speaking of that, I thought of something for the honeymoon, so you don’t need to worry about it.”

“What?” You glance back over your shoulder as his fingers tangle in your hair, spreading the soap.

“Yeah, and if we don’t like it we can just go do something else…perks of being a hunter.”

_____

You and Dean didn’t really get any more sleep and that’s why your coffee cup is filled with six shots of espresso as you lean against the hood of the Impala, shoulder to shoulder with Dean.

Dean elbows you lightly, “You think I should go knock on his door?”

You smile, “Could you imagine the look on his face?”

Dean smirks, his hand moving over yours on the metal. You turn your hand and he laces them together, squeezing slightly, “I think I need a bull horn.”

“Oh my god,” you shake your head, taking a sip of the bitter drink as you hear the doorknob turn a few rooms down from the one you had left about an hour ago to grab some breakfast. There is a little bit of giggling before the waitress from the diner comes out, spinning back around and grabbing the collar of Sam’s shirt, pulling him down for a kiss.

Dean makes a big deal, obviously trying to embarrass Sam with the ‘oooo’ that comes out of his mouth and you can’t help but laugh at his ridiculousness. Sam’s arm wraps around the back of the waitress, flipping the two of you off without her noticing until she pulls away, smiling shyly, saying something to Sam that you can’t quite hear.

You can tell she doesn’t want to say goodbye to him, the way she shifts from foot to foot, playing with her hair, unsure how to leave it. You don’t blame her, Sam’s a good guy, and hell, he’s a Winchester, even if he is the world’s biggest nerd.

She gives him one more quick kiss before scurrying off towards a car past the Impala, giving you and Dean a small little wave, turning red and avoiding eye contact even though she never stops smiling.

You both look back to Sam who is staring after her with a lopsided, goofy grin until he catches you two staring, trying to contain the laughter. He rolls his eyes, shakes his head and goes back into the room, knowing the shit storm is coming from you and his brother.

He comes back out, not five minutes later with his duffle, tossing it down with an annoyed huff, “Alright, let’s have it.”

Dean and you share a quick glance, and he deadpans, “Don’t know what you mean Sam, she seemed like a nice girl.”

Sam looks shocked and it is all you can do not to laugh, “Seriously?”

Dean shrugs, letting go of your hand and heading for the driver’s side, “I mean, you could have at least drove her home…but yeah.”

Sam stands there, frozen in place, suspicious. You put on your biggest smile, “What’s wrong Sam?”

“Uh-…” he’s waiting for it, and you know it’s going to come about thirty miles down the road when there is no chance of escape.

“Get in you two,” Dean calls from inside the car as the engine roars to life, “we’re burnin’ daylight.”

You have to stifle the giggle as you crawl in shotgun. Dean rests his arm on the top of the bench seat, his fingertips touching your shoulder and you know within an hour you’ll gravitate towards him and his whole arm will be over your shoulder, and you will be nestled against his side while Sam sleeps in the back.

You were wrong though, it’s about mile twenty-three when Dean nudges your shoulder and shoots you a wink, “So hey Sammy…I know it’s been awhile but…”


	19. Blindfolds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he big day is finally here

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. You aren’t exactly nervous, well you are. You are afraid to get up in front of thirty some people and talk out loud, but you are not afraid to marry Dean, to be up there next to him and walk out of this little church as a Winchester. **  
**

“You sure you’re okay?” Sam asks, and you turn away from the mirror, nodding.

“Yeah,” you smile.

“You really do look beautiful, Dean’s gonna like that dress.”

You smirk, knowing he’s going to like getting you out of it even more, “Thanks Sam.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you down the aisle?” He has this small smile on his face, and you know this is a good day for him too.

You step forward, giving him a hug, “I’m sure, Dean needs you more than me. This is one walk I can make alone, even if it is in these awful heels.”

Sam laughs, “Only if you’re sure. I’m sure Cas or Garth would-”

You back away, “I’m positive…How’s Dean doing?”

Sam shakes his head, a little smile on his face, “He’s sweating bullets…I think he’s more afraid of forgetting what he is going to say than anything.”

You can’t help but laugh. Leave it to the big dork to be just as nervous as you about this. You had both agreed to write your own vows, neither of you caring for the canned, standard ones. But you found out that it didn’t matter what you write, what you say, nothing compares to how much you actually love Dean, you just can’t express it in words.

“Well you got about ten minutes, I’m going to go get Dean. Just yell if you need anything.” Sam pulls you in for one more hug before leaving the room.

You watch the door close before turning around to the mirror one last time, straightening the dress. It was simple, this floral lace that had long, off the shoulder sleeves. You had found it in a shop three days ago.

Jody had helped you put your hair up, pinning it back with these rhinestone clips. She’s such a nice woman. You’d met her awhile ago and the last couple years she was definitely part of the family, the family of hunters that were sitting out in the pews of this small church.

There is a soft knock at the door and you think it is Jody coming to tell you that it’s time to get moving, “Come in.”

“I can’t,” Dean’s voice is soft on the other side and you feel your heart leap into your throat. You haven’t heard his voice since yesterday afternoon when Donna and Jody had drug you out for a couple drinks and Sam had drug Dean in the other direction.

You walk over to the door, putting your hand on the wood, “Hey you.”

“Hey sweetheart,” he breathes, “you ready?”

“Yeah,” you smile even though he can’t see you.

“I’ve only got a minute before Sam finds me…Baby, I just want you to know I-I-”

“Me too Dean.”

There is a long silence that passes between you.

“I missed you last night,” he chuckles.

You laugh, you guys hadn’t slept in separate rooms since your first big fight. You lean against the door, getting as close to him as you can at the moment, “I didn’t sleep at all.”

“Dean!” You hear Sam call and Dean laugh low.

“Alright sweetheart, I’ll be the one in this monkey suit.”

“I love you Dean.”

“More than anything baby.” You hear him shuffle off, telling Sam he’s coming and to get off his case.

You can’t help but laugh, the giddy excitement pooling inside of you. You love that man, so much. You’re so caught up in thinking about him that you jump when Jody raps softly and pokes her head in the door, “You ready to go beautiful?”

You nod, “Yes.”

“Okay, well let’s get your butt out there.” She motions out the door, and you can’t help but smile.

“I’m so gonna forget what I’m going to say,” you confess just before you make it to the main part of the small church.

Jody turns around, smiling warmly, shrugging, “I don’t think that is going to matter Y/N, Dean doesn’t care about that.”

“Thank you for everything Jody.”

“Yeah, of course.” She smiles, and you hear soft piano music as she hands you the small bouquet of wildflowers, “I think that’s you.”

You nod, taking a deep breath and praying you make it without breaking an ankle. The next step you are terrified of making a mistake, the next you’re hoping you don’t make an idiot out of yourself.

The next step all of that falls away.

You know people are standing, you know you should be able to see their faces, but you don’t. All you see is him.

He’s saying something to Sam, probably some joke, but then he sees you, meeting your eyes. You stop breathing, Dean reaching over and smacking his brother on the chest, grabbing his jacket to steady himself as he stares at you. And time stops, and he doesn’t smile, just this look of pure awe.

You smile, watching him, your legs moving on their own. Dean’s got this tux on, and fuck does he look sharp, but his face, his eyes, how they look at you like you’re the only person in the world. It makes your heart stop in your chest, it makes it hard to breathe.

You’re seven steps away, then five, then two and you are there, Dean closing the distance and taking your hand in his.

“Fuck Y/N,” he whispers so just you can hear.

“We are in a church Dean,” you hiss, “try to behave.”

You can’t stop looking at him, your heart fluttering as you hand the flowers off. This is really happening, you are here, Dean is here with you. You never, ever in a million years thought you were going to have this, have him. You literally never thought you would live to see the day.

The pastor in front of you, an ordained hunter Sam knew, speaks but you don’t hear him. All you can focus on is Dean’s hand on yours, squeezing. You have no idea what he’s saying until Dean pulls you around to face him.

‘Sorry,’ you mouth, turning red.

He smiles, clearing his throat, “Y/N, you know I’m not great at this and I’ve thought about this again and again and I can’t find the right words to tell you ho-” he swallows, looking away from your eyes for a moment, “how much you’ve changed my life.”

He nods, meeting your eyes again, the edges around them crinkling, “And I could stand up here all damn day and tell you how much you mean to me, how much I love you, but I think you already know that. So I’m just gonna keep it simple and promise you this…”

You can feel yourself smiling, struggling not to cry from the overwhelming emotions coursing through you right now, from how much your heart is clenching in your chest.

“I promise you that no matter what sweetheart…Heaven, Hell, life, death, anything in between… I don’t care, I’m always gonna be there with you. It’s you and me, forever, because I can’t picture a day without you.” He slides your ring on your finger.

Dean reaches out, brushing the tear away from your cheek that you hadn’t known was there, covering it up by pretending to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“Y/N?” the pastor prompts quietly.

You nod, trying to collect yourself, “Dean-,” you can’t find the words, they just aren’t coming. You can’t remember anything you planned to say, all you know is he’s standing here with you, “I love you more than anything in this world. You’ve changed me, you’ve changed my life for the better.”

You take in a deep breath as he smiles softly, almost shyly as his green eyes shimmer, “Dean I promise a day won’t go by that I’m not beside you. I’m never going to let you feel alone in this world because you aren’t. So through death, through life, through everything, I promise to be there, come anything this world throws at us.”

You see the tears threaten at his eyes as you echo his words, sliding his ring with shaking hands on his finger, “It’s you and me.”

Dean’s neck strains as he fights to keep himself under control. You can tell every single part of him wants to gather you up in his arms that instant, but he buries it as the pastor asks him, “Dean, do you take Y/N to be your wife?”

He barely gets the words out and Dean is saying, “I do.”

You can hear the collective chuckle at his hurried words.

“Y/N, do you take Dean to be your husband?”

“I do,” and no words in your entire life have felt more certain, have held more promise than those two little words.

You miss him saying the whole ‘pronounce you man and wife’ part, you can’t stop focusing on Dean, the giddy excitement mixed with the raw emotion. You can’t stop looking at your husband.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

And Dean doesn’t hesitate, pulling you against him, his arms wrapping around you and his lips crashing against yours. He kisses you with everything he has, saying the words he couldn’t say earlier like this because that’s how the two of you did it. You kiss him back, your arm wrapping around his neck, your lips moving with his in perfect sync.

You pull away, a little breathless, giggling as Dean nips at your bottom lip.

“There’s people here,”’ you whisper.

“I don’t care,” he growls, dipping in again. He keeps it fairly chaste this time thanks to Sam clearing his throat.

“I present to you all Mr. and Mrs. Dean Winchester.”

Dean takes your hand in his, squeezing so hard it should break, but instead it steadies you, makes you feel whole as he pulls you with him down the aisle, all the hunters you know cheering wildly.

He leads you outside, down the three steps to the Impala, holding the door open for you, not letting go until you are seated inside. He closes the door gently, leaning through the open window, and you close the distance, pressing your lips against his. Dean cups your chin, holding you in place as he kisses you deeply, both of you losing yourselves.

Dean pulls away first, barely a hairsbreadth, “I love you so damn much.”

“I love you too Dean.”

He smiles like a goof, racing around to the other side of the car and sliding in. He revs the engine, burning rubber as he pulls out of the parking lot.

As soon as he’s on the main road, his hand finds yours, fingers lacing as you scoot closer to him, relaxing back against the seat.

You kinda half scoff, half laugh as you watch out the window.

“What’s so funny?”

You shake your head, looking at him, “I don’t remember any of it but you.”

He smiles, glancing at you before looking back at the road, “I’m never going to forget how you look in that dress. You’re gorgeous.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself Winchester.” You crane your neck so you can press a kiss to his jaw.

Dean chuckles, winking “Keep your hands to yourself there Winchester.”

“Ugh,” you make fake gagging noises until he’s howling with laughter.

Dean wraps his arm around your shoulder and you lean against him, mentally preparing yourself for the next few hours until it’s just you and him.

“Hey Dean?” You ask quietly, thinking outloud.

“Hmm?”

“Do you remember the first time we danced?”

“Christmas Eve, 2008.” He chuckles low, but you see his green eyes get lost in the memory.

“That’s the first time my thought wasn’t ‘god, he’s the cockiest son of a bitch ever’.” you tease, but really it was one of the first times you had ever fantasized about Dean, thought about him as more than just a good hunting buddy. Then you had buried that thought until you had blurted out one of your most embarrassing secrets in front of your best friend.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smile.

“What made you think of that?”

You shrug, “I was thinking how in a little bit we are going to have to dance in front of people.”

“I remember I was so damn happy to see you that night,” he confesses.

“Really?”

He smiles, blushing a little, “Yeah… I thought I’d pissed you off when I asked if you wanted to hunt with me and Sammy the time before.”

You shrug, “I should have taken you up on it, I was just in a bad place. I’m really glad you asked again and that I never left.”

“Me too,” he pulls the Impala into the hall you guys rented, the late afternoon light spilling in, “You ready?”

You kiss him on the cheek, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“C’mere,” he mumbles, his fingers coming up and tightening around your chin, holding you in place as he kisses you deeply. God, you wish you have time for more, but people are going to be waiting.

He pulls away for a second before his lips press back to yours, then your cheek, on your jaw, then the tip of your nose until you are giggling uncontrollably, “Knock it off.” You grab his face between your hands, stopping him as you look into his olive eyes, getting lost in the pure happiness there.

Your thumbs rub over the scruff just starting to come through, and your heart clenches in your chest. Suddenly, you are struggling not to cry. He’s your husband. And even though you two were going to stick together no matter what, even though you two loved each other before today, there is a new level, a solid finality to it. This is it, it actually happened.

Never before Dean, did you think life could be filled with so much light, never did you think you could love someone this fucking much.

You never thought someone would love you this much.

“Y/N?” His voice is soft and brings you back.

You shake your head, letting him go, blushing a little, “It’s nothing.”

Dean’s hand slides over yours, squeezing it, whispering, “Me too baby.”

He pulls you out the driver’s side with him, somehow managing to get you and your dress out in one piece. Dean never let’s go of you, not when Garth opens the door for you, not when you walk through the tables of hollering hunters, not even once you two sit down.

The only thing unfortunate about this whole wedding was you let Sam pick the menu since you were so busy with everything else. Even though Dean tries to put on a happy face, you can feel his disappointment when a salad and pasta is set in front of him.

You rub his thigh, leaning over and whispering in his ear, “I swear the moment we get out of here, we’ll grab a burger.”

He chuckles, catching you by surprise with a small kiss, “Goddamn I love you.”

You smile back, “Well you know I’m always down for more food and there is no way in hell I’m going to be full after a salad.”

“I knew there was a reason I married you,” he presses his lips to yours again, this time getting a cheer from the small crowd.

The rest of dinner is a blur, hunters are pretty informal and it is a lot of people coming up and talking to you guys, telling stories…

‘Did you know about the time that Dean here….’

‘I was on this hunt with Y/N once where she…’

‘You two are the craziest sons of bitches…’

And on and on until Sam and Jody get people back on track. Jody taking the microphone, “And if you guys could take a seat, I think the best man wants to say a couple words about the happy couple.”

Sam takes the microphone from Jody, a shy smile on his face, “Um…Hi guys, I’m just up here because I couldn’t miss out on an opportunity to embarrass Dean in front of his beautiful wife.”

He gets collective chuckles and Dean wraps his arm around the back of your chair, squeezing your shoulders as Sam continues, “No, but in all seriousness these two have been a- a miracle. Y/N and Dean met on a hunt eight years ago, and in all honestly I think my brother’s been in love with her since then…” you catch Dean blush a little out of the corner of your eye and glance your way.

“Four years ago, Y/N stayed with us on a hunt and never left and I’ve had the privilege of being her friend and watching my friend and my brother fall in love with each other.” He takes in a deep breath, “I think most of us in this room have seen a lot, I know I have, but I’ve never seen two people be able to break each other’s walls down like Y/N and my brother. I’ve watched them over the course of these four years change each other, I’ve watched them the last year or so make each other the happiest I’ve ever seen anyone. And I’ve never seen two people make such a perfect pair.”

“So Y/N, I’ve got to thank you. I’ve seen my brother give up, I’ve seen him hopeless, and I thought I had seen him happy. But I’ve never seen him as happy and as free as you make him. So thank you…” he swallows really quick, “And I don’t want to say good luck or anything like that because you two don’t need that, I can’t wish you years of happiness because I don’t doubt that you will have it. So congrats is the best I can do.”

You get up, walk the short distance to Sam and give him a big hug, “Thank you.”

He squeezes, “Anytime.”

He lets go, Dean right beside you, pulling his baby brother in for a hug. When they break apart, Dean’s hand immediately finds yours and he turns to Sam, “Why don’t we get this party started, huh?”

Sam laughs, turning to the DJ, Dean tugging you onto the small dance floor, spinning you slowly as the song begins to play.

“Journey? Really?” you giggle as his arms wrap around you.

“Hey!” He scoffs, teasing, “You pick a better first dance song. Plus you love Journey, I’ve seen you jammin’ out.”

“God, you are so damn cheesy.” you joke as ‘Faithfully’ plays and he leads you in a slow pattern.

“You love it,” he winks, watching your face.

“I love you,” you correct, closing the distance and giving him a quick kiss.

“So are we sneaking out after this?” he whispers in your ear.

You chuckle, “We’ll give it two hours, I feel like people might notice if we go missing right away.”

He spins you again then brings you back against his chest, “I don’t know, these are hunters and they tend to drink.”

“Two hours,” you smile.

“Fine,” he concedes.

_______

Dean turns the car down the highway, away from the bunker, “I thought we were going back. I still need to grab-”

Dean laces his fingers through yours in the middle of the seat, “I kinda just figured we would hit the road…I grabbed your bags, they are in the trunk. Is that okay?”

You can’t help but smile, scooting closer to him, yawning, “I wanted to get out of this dress but I’m cool with that. You never did tell me where we are going.”

He chuckles low, letting go of your hand long enough to pop a tape in the player and turn the radio on, “Guess you’ll find out when we get there. You tired?”

You curl up against him as he puts in a cassette and Journey starts playing again, “A little…That was just a lot of talking to people and it was a long day.”

“You can take a nap on the way, I’m good.”

You shake your head as you lift his arm around your shoulders, pressing against his warm side, “How far are we going?”

“Just a few hours tonight…As much as I like that dress on you sweetheart, I can’t wait to get you out of it.”

You bust out laughing, “I almost made that joke earlier when Sam said you would like my dress.”

  
Dean chuckles, “You should have, the look on his face would have been priceless.”

“I also would have scarred him for life.”

“Sweetheart, with the way you scream, you scarred him a long time ago.”

You smack his thigh, trying not to laugh, failing miserably. Dean squeezes you, hand rubbing up and down your shoulder as he presses a firm kiss to the top of your head, “Seriously, get some sleep.”

You want to argue, but his warm body and the way the car moves is making your eyes droop, “Just a small nap.”

He chuckles, the vibrations rumbling through your body, “Sure thing, you’re gonna sleep until we get there.”

You yawn, letting your eyes close, “Maybe.”

The next thing you know Dean is shaking you lightly, “C’mon sweetheart.”

“No,” you snuggle closer to him and he laughs low.

“Yes,” he unwraps you from his arm, “let’s get checked in.”

You open your eyes to see a really fancy hotel, valet, whole nine yards. But Dean had parked himself, no one was touching his car if he could help it.

“Alright,” you concede, stretching, as you crawl out of the car. Dean is already at the truck, “What do you want me to grab?”

“Not a damn thing sweetheart,” he smiles, closing the trunk as he slings a bag over his back, his duffle in his hand.

“Positive?”

He wraps his free hand around your waist, leaning down to kiss you, “Absolutely. I got it.”

You lace your fingers with his and let him lead you to the door that automatically opens. You two get a couple of glances, but it is after eleven at night and really the lobby is pretty deserted. Dean checks in, getting the room keys, and taking you to the elevator. Suddenly you aren’t all that tired anymore, not as you look up and watch his face, the slow smile that creeps across his lips because he knows you are staring.

You smile, “I can’t believe I married you.”

Dean busts out laughing as the doors open to your floor, “Who would have thought, huh?”

He slides the key in the room, opening it, and it’s almost like that suite you had stayed in in Vegas: oversized, a separate bedroom, a kitchenette.

Dean tosses the bags to the side, letting you go long enough to shrug off his jacket. And for some reason you are frozen to the floor, the day hitting you.

“Sweetheart?” he’s standing toe to toe with you, his hand caressing your cheek, pulling you to look at him.

“I’m serious, I-I never thought we’d make it this far, like both of us alive, and it’s just,” you trail off. It’s overwhelming. A hunter, no, two hunters getting some sort of happiness? You, getting a happy ending, it’s beyond anything you have ever imagined.

“I know baby,” his lips brush against yours, “I know. I can’t believe it either.”

You fist his shirt as you close the gap, kissing him, pressing your lips to his, letting them slide against one another and your lungs scream for air, but you don’t stop, wrapping your arms around his neck. Dean groans against your lips, and you suck his bottom one between your teeth, tugging at it as he rests his forehead against yours.

Your fingers work at the buttons of his shirt slowly as your breaths mix. Dean’s hands wander over your sides as yours work their way down, popping one button free after another, “Turn around sweetheart.”

You let him spin you, his fingers working at the zipper, slowly sliding it down your back as he kisses your exposed shoulder. Every brush of his lips against your skin makes you crave him more, “Dean.”

He sighs contently as he pushes the fabric down your arms, letting the white dress fall to the floor in a pile as you step out of it, left in your heels, bra and panties in front of him as you turn to face him again.

His eyes move slowly, head moving slightly as he takes you in, his tongue poking between his lips. And you’re half tempted to cover your body but you don’t, you don’t have to ever hide from Dean.

You step forward, your hands finding his bare chest, pushing the shirt down his arms and to the floor. His hands come up, touching your face gently, his eyes traveling over your face then meeting yours.

You forget how to breathe.

There’s a softness, a vulnerability to him that stops you in your tracks. He swallows hard, blinking quickly a few times, clearing his throat, “Breathe sweetheart.”

You nod quickly, taking in a shaky breath, blinking back a few threatening tears you didn’t know were there.

He takes your hand, pulling you with him, “I have something I thought you might like.”

He squats down, digging through the duffle bag and pulls out a long satin cloth. You search your mind for a split second, “Blindfold?”

He nods, you smile, “Me or you?”

“Who do you think?” He laughs.

You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him from behind, placing a kiss on the freckles on his shoulder, “I think both.”

He turns in your arms so he can wrap one of his around you, “Ladies first?”

You pull in a big breath, “Sure thing…just know whatever teasing you do, I’m gonna pay you back for.”

“Challenge accepted,” he jokes, taking the satin and placing it over your eyes, your world going dark. You inhale sharply at the sensation, the deprivation, as your eyelashes brush over the fabric and he takes a step back.

You hear his belt buckle, followed by a zipper, then the soft sounds of fabric hitting the floor..

“Dean?” You ask, your voice a little unsure.

“It’s okay sweetheart, I’m right here.” He takes your outstretched hand, tugging pulling you to follow him across the room.

You take it step by hesitant step, knowing Dean wouldn’t do anything to hurt you but you also know you are perfectly capable of killing yourself in these heels, “Dean, I need to take these damn things off.”

“Here,” he mumbles and suddenly the ground isn’t there anymore as he lifts you up into his arms.

He takes a couple quick steps, keeping you against his chest until he stops, setting you down on the deep chair that was near the corner of the room, his body kneeling between your knees. You can feel the warmth of his hands, the roughness of them as they run up your thighs, hooking in your panties.

“Don’t rip these ones,” you plead with him.

“Fine,” he chuckles as you arch your back, giving him room to slide them down your legs, “Happy?”

“Never,” you smile and even though you can’t see his face you know he’s smiling back at you.

“Mhm, sure thing,” he mumbles before you feel his lips against your stomach, his fingers wrapping behind your knees, pulling you so you are only half sitting up, legs around his strong body.

You feel his warm breath on your face before he kisses you, lips meeting yours, moving slowly. You reach out until you feel his warm skin under your fingertips, letting your hands travel up his chest, his neck, so you are cupping his face, scruff rough under your palms.

He breaks away, placing kisses over your jaw, his teeth scraping over your neck before he sucks at the spot where it meets your shoulder, making you moan.

“You’re so beautiful sweetheart,” he mumbles against your skin, pressing another kiss there as his hands move and unsnap the strapless bra, pulling it away, leaving you naked under his touch.

You tangle your fingers in his short hair as his lips move over your skin, alternating between kisses and nips that make you shake, make it hard to breathe. And usually, you love to watch him, love to see his face, watch his expressions, but you know him so damn well, it’s all clear in your mind and you feel it against you. Feel how his lips turn up into a small smirk when you moan a little louder, feel his breathing change pace, feel his muscles move smoothly under his skin as your hands wander down to his shoulders.

Dean sucks a mark over your ribs, your back arching against his mouth and his lips keep moving over your skin. His nose traces down your stomach and he diverts, nipping at your hip bone before, pulling your legs over his shoulders, pressing small kisses to the soft insides of your thighs.

He takes his time, his warm breath fanning over your quivering pussy, letting you wait, letting it build. And when he finally touches you, when his mouth covers your core, you can’t help the long exhale, the smile that covers your face.

You suck in your bottom lip, your hips rock slowly against his mouth as his tongue works over your clit. His lips suck the sensitive bud between his lips, pulling lightly, your entire body shaking at his touch. God you just want to see him, to watch him, watch those olive eyes that you know are watching you.

You reach for the blindfold, your fingertips on the fabric when his large hand snatches your wrist, bringing your hand back down to tangle in his short hair as his tongue dips in your core.

Your thighs tightening around his ears drives him on, he keeps a steady pace, his tongue dipping in and out then he stops, his tongue and lips finding your clit again. Your legs tremble as the sweat breaks out across your skin.

“Dean,” you whine, pushing yourself closer to his mouth and his arms hold you tighter, giving you what you want, what you need.

He groans against your pussy, the vibrations  making you shudder, “F-fuck Dean, please.”

Your skin is buzzing, just below the surface. You can feel the heat pooling in your stomach, you can feel the edge of the head rush, waiting there on the fringes. Dean pushes you closer and closer to it.

His teeth graze over your clit, sending shock waves through your body, soft whimpers falling from your lips as you fall over the edge. Your orgasm courses through you, pleasure rippling from your core to your extremities. You tug at his hair, your body rolling against his mouth as he prolongs it, small licks and nips.

“Dean,” your voice is breathless, high pitched as your heart races and your pussy flutters, squeezing around nothing.

He lets your legs fall off his shoulders, his warm body pressed against you as your fingers trail over his skin.

You jump a little, not expecting his lips to press against yours so soon. You can feel him smile before he presses again, and you open to him, his tongue sliding against yours, exploring as you taste yourself on his lips.

“Y/N,” he mumbles and his fingers trace your cheekbones before pushing the blindfold up. You blink a couple of times, the low light in the room a big contrast to the dark a few moments ago.

You focus on his face, your eyes flitting over his features, finally coming to rest on his soft olive eyes, “Hey there,” you joke.

“Hey yourself,” he smiles, kissing the tip of your nose, “You alright?”

You bite your bottom lip, nodding, “That’s a keeper.”

“I was going to keep going but you said you wanted to give it a shot.” His voice is low, gentle, loving and you nod slowly.

“Yeah.” You smile, maybe a little smugly as you close the distance, wrapping yourself around him and kissing him fiercely. Dean kisses you back with just as much intensity, breaking it only to rock back and lift you up, making you giggle against his lips as he heads to the bedroom.

You don’t even look at the room as he carries you in, you don’t know what color the room is, you don’t give a shit how it is decorated. All you see is him, all you want is him.

Dean sets you back on the mattress, letting himself fall over you, his lips never far from yours. You crawl up the soft bed, Dean and you laughing, placing small kisses on any skin either of you can reach.

When you feel pillows, you push at his chest, Dean letting you take lead and rolling to his back. You flip, crawling over him, your fingers exploring his freckled skin. You pause as you straddle his stomach, the ring on his left hand catching the light, unable to believe you’re here.

Yes, you can believe you are with Dean, now. Two years ago? You would have laughed if anyone would have told you you and Dean would be fooling around, you never would have believed you would be married to him. Even more, you wouldn’t have believed it was even possible to be this in love with someone.

And you get to experience it all with your best friend, with Dean.

“Hey baby,” you jump, Dean’s fingers on your face startling you.

“I’m sorry,” you shake your head, coming back to reality, “I was just-.”

“Me too sweetheart. Me too.” He smiles, this goofy ass little grin that makes your heart melt in your chest.

You reach up in your hair, pulling the blindfold over your head, undoing the knot. Dean watches you, his hand resting on your hip.

“You ready?”

He nods, sitting up, his chest pressed against yours so you can tie this. But as you go to put the blindfold over his eyes, he dips in to kiss you, his lips finding yours.

“Dean,” you giggle, but he ignores your small protest, his lips pressing against your neck then your collarbone.

You grab his chin, laughing, “Knock it off, hold still for a second.”

He makes this really fake, playful growl at you and you have to roll your eyes, it’s just reflex. But he does, and the fabric blocks you from his view as you tie it around the back of his head.

As soon as your hands fall away, he buries his face in the crook of your shoulder, kissing the soft skin there as your hands wander up and down his back.

“Lay back,” you whisper in his ear and he does, hesitantly moving away from you.

You watch him for a moment, letting it build. His hands grip the sheets, his lips slightly parted as he listens for you.

You reach behind you, your fingers finding his hard cock, ghosting over the velvet skin. His stomach muscles tighten, his neck strains as you continue to tease him, just barely touching him.

“Y/N,” he groans low, your fingers wrapping around his length, stroking slowly from your awkward position but you can’t bring yourself to move. His face is making your pussy throb and your mind go completely blank.

You take a deep breath, lifting yourself up and scooting back, positioning his cock between your folds. Lowering yourself, you rock your hips, teasing him, dragging your slick pussy over his throbbing cock.

He grunts, his jaw clenching as the head hits your clit and you rock your hips again and again, picking up a slow rhythm.

Dean is struggling, you know he wants to touch you, you can see it in his tight fists. But you can’t stop, you don’t want to, not now when you get to watch him totally unabashed. Watch the twitching of every muscle from his jaw to his stomach. Watch the way he gasps a little then sets his mouth hard.

You can feel his cock twitching, his hips rolling in time with yours, “Y/N, please.”

With a smile you concede, wanting to feel him on more than your folds and your clit. You reach between you, stroking him, lining him up with your aching core and slowly sinking down, letting him fill you up as a moan escapes your lips.

You stay completely still for a moment, allowing your fluttering walls to stretch around him. Dean swallows hard, his cock throbbing inside of you. His stomach muscles tighten, refusing to release as he tries to calm himself. You run your fingertips over them, Dean arching into your touch.

Leaning forward you roll your hips, letting his cock drag inside you as you run your lips over his sternum, moving to the side and pressing a kiss where you can feel his pounding heart. And suddenly you feel his hands gripping your waist. His fingers press into your soft skin, holding hard enough you know there will be faint bruises.

God, you want this to last longer, you want to tease him more, but that is going to have to wait for another day. Reaching forward you push the blindfold off his eyes and as soon as you do, something clicks with Dean and he sits up faster than you can think. His lips crash against yours and his hands wander over your back, your arms wrapping around his neck, holding him close.

Dean presses his forehead against yours, your breaths mixing. You take in a deep breath, “I love you, so fucking much.”

He smiles, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you down ontop of him as he lays back against the pillows, “I love you too sweetheart, always.”

His fingers slip through yours, and you lean forward, pinning them to either side of his head, his fingers squeezing. Your head tips to the side, the pressure of his ring on your fingers drawing your attention and you can’t help but smile like an idiot as you squeeze back.

You look back to him, up into those olive eyes filled with emotion and promise. He rocks his hips slowly, his cock dragging in and out of your quivering pussy. You roll your hips in response, grinding your clit against his pelvic bone as he groans beneath you.

Your fingers leave his and Dean’s arms wrap around you, pulling your body flush with his. You rest your forehead to his, your nose pressing against his cheek as your fingers tangle in his short hairs, tugging in tandem with the bucking of your hips.

Dean shifts underneath you, his chin tipping so his lips press against yours again and again as he plants his feet, meeting your rhythm with languid thrusts. You moan against his mouth, repeating his name over and over mixed with ‘I love you’s’ and soft curses. And in between each one of your words Dean continues to kiss you. The groans that he lets loose resonate through your body, setting you on fire.

“Y/N,” his fingers tangle in your hair, holding your lips to his, “Fuck sweetheart.”

You take each other higher and higher, your breath mixing, your sweat mixing, and you can’t tell where you end, and he begins.

And you can feel your pussy start to clench as his cock throbs within you, the pulsating sensation making you whine and whimper for him. His thrusts become erratic, you fall out of rhythm, each of you holding off as you work the other there, making each other shaking, trembling messes.

Dean’s hands fall to your hips, holding you still as he thrusts deep inside you, holding himself there as you fall apart around him. Your entire body convulses as Dean grunts, his cock twitching, jumping and spilling inside you, warm come  filling you up as you collapse on top of him.

You lose track of time, his softening cock still seated in you, your face buried in the crook of his neck as your heart races and it’s hard to catch your breath. You feel his arms around you, his lips press to the top of your head as his hands run over your bare skin as the day begins to take it’s toll.

Tiredly, you lift your head, resting your chin on his chest pressing a kiss to his throat. He cranes his neck, meeting your eyes with a soft, slow smile. He finds your left hand, lifting it to his lips, kissing it softly before looking at your ring in the dim light, “I still can’t believe we’re married.”

You chuckle, pressing a kiss to his chest, right below the anti-possession tattoo, “I’m a lucky girl.”

“No sweetheart,” he cups your chin, making you look at him, “I’m the lucky one, I just hope I can give you what you deserve.”

You can’t help the warm smile as you nuzzle against him, settling in his arms, “Dean, you do every day. I deserve you.”

Dean doesn’t answer, his arms just tighten around you, holding you on his chest. He’s in no hurry to move you, and you’re in no hurry to move as you listen to his heartbeat, letting it lull you to sleep in the arms of your husband.


	20. Outdoors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Dean get pulled away from your honeymoon early and you are forced to face a dark spot from your past

“Dean, you hate camping,” you still are a little more than surprised about this, and very much unsure. After a week of little adventures on your honeymoon, this wasn’t something you expected, at all.

He shrugs, “Nah, I don’t.”

You half laugh, “Yes you do. I believe your exact words the last time we had to camp were ‘fuck this, I fucking hate camping, I would rather be tortured by demons than have bugs crawl on my ass while I’m trying to sleep’.”

He laughs, “You make it sound like I threw a fit.”

“You pretty much did.”

He smiles, “Okay, well I don’t love camping, but I can do it. You like camping, you’ve said you used to do it a lot.”

You nod, when you were a kid your family went camping quite a bit. And that is how you pretty much lived when you first started hardcore hunting. You liked the harder, more exotic monsters when you had been hunting alone and they were normally miles into the woods. Plus for a long time, it was easier than facing anything, anyone else.

“Are you sure? I’m perfectly happy going to the beach or something for our honeymoon.”

He nods firmly, “Yeah, I know and we will, but I wanted to do something together. Just me and you before we get dragged back into hunting shit.”

“Okay, as long as you’re sure,” you smile, grabbing a duffel bag out of the trunk, setting it on the ground and rummaging through the trunk. It wasn’t like this was hardcore camping, hell, you had driven up to the camp spot, there was a gravel drive, and indoor shower down the road at the electric sites, he should be fine.

It is late September, but in the southwest the air is still pretty warm, at least warmer than it is in Kansas and you are the only people in the primitive camp area. You grab the tent that is still in the package, “You ready to try this?”

“I think I can put a tent together sweetheart.”

You giggle, “Sure you can babe… Do you want help?”

He grumbles, taking it off of you and shaking his head. He’s determined now and you know he will get that thing up come hell or high water.  You just hope it happens before it gets too dark.

He takes out the poles, tossing the directions to the side and spreading out the canvas, grumbling to himself as he looks it over. Even though you are a ways away, still digging through stuff in the trunk, you can hear him swearing under his breath.

You smile to yourself as you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. You are half tempted to not even look at it, but it is your in case of emergency phone and there are only two people in the world that have that number and you are watching one of them struggle to set up a tent.

You glance at it, a text from Sam….

**-I’m sorry Y/N. I stumbled on a bad one, fourteen bodies in Washington**

Fuck. You swallow hard.

_-What does it look like?_

He responds right away.

**-I don’t know yet. Probably not a salt and burn. I’m thinking demon.**

_-How long until the next one?_

**-Few days, maybe a week if we are lucky.**

Dammit, you want to cry and you know it is selfish, but this last week of nothing but you and Dean had been a dream come true. Your phone buzzes.

**-I’m so sorry Y/N**

_-We’ll meet you there in two days. Send me the address and email the details_

You put away your phone, not waiting for the response. You don’t know how you are going to tell Dean, you don’t want to, and for now you’re not going to. Sam staring in Kansas would be a two day drive, for you from here it was one. You aren’t going to leave any earlier than you have to and that is tomorrow morning.

So you toss the phone in the trunk, determined to make this the best last day you possibly can.

“Fuck,” Dean growls as the poles fall apart again. You stifle the giggle as you gather some small pieces of wood from under the trees, starting to put together enough for a fire in the metal pit.

You’ve got the fire started, setting larger logs on when Dean backs away, brushing off his hands, “There we go.”

“It’s about time,” you tease, pushing a log gingerly with your fingertips closer to the flame.

“Quiet over there,” he grumbles playfully and you can feel him come up behind you. You stand upright, your knees cracking and Dean wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he holds you close.

You put your hands over his, reveling in the warmth that radiates from him as he rocks from foot to foot, kissing where your neck meets your shoulder again and again.

“Dean,” you whisper, “we gotta get the rest of the stuff out before it gets too dark.”

“Mhmm,” he sighs, pressing his lips right below your ear and it sends a tingle up your spine. Too soon he unlocks his arms from around you, stepping back, “Let’s get cookin so we can get some sleep.”

You chuckle, “Like you were planning on sleeping.”

He smirks, “Well….”

“What were we eating anyways?”

He swats your ass playfully before whispering in your ear, “I don’t know what you are, but I was definitely planning on eating you out.”

You smack his chest, turning so you can grab the collar of his shirt as you stand on tiptoes to kiss him, “I think something mutual can be arranged.”

Then you let go, backing up, watching the look of wonder on his face, “What?”

He shakes his head, closing the distance and taking your hand, “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

You swing your hand in his, pulling him towards the car, “You were you.”

He smiles like a goof, helping you grab your bags and the blankets from the trunk, laying them out in the tent. He steals kisses as you go, slowing down the progress but you don’t mind one bit, it’s more moments you get to spend with him.

You end up making hotdogs for dinner over the fire. You’re sitting on Dean’s leg, leaning forward with four hotdogs on the metal fork, his hand running up and down your ribs as the sun sets and dark starts to settle.

“Just turning dark right?” you ask, bringing the dogs closer to your face to inspect them.

“Yep,” he grunts as he grabs a package of buns off the ground, trying not to jostle you.

You hold the fork as close as you dare to the end and one by one Dean pulls them off on a bun, putting them on a paper plate on his other leg. You set the fork down, grabbing the plate, going to get off his lap when his arm wraps around your waist, “Where do you think you’re going?”

He pulls you back down as you giggle, sitting sideways, his one arm supporting you as you sprawl across his legs, setting the plate on top of yours.

“Seriously Dean?” not that you really minded.

“Yeah, you’re warm and you got the grub.” he grabs a hotdog off the plate, shoving it in his mouth.

You can’t help but smile, taking a bite of your own as you curl up against him. His arm holds you tighter as you enjoy both the warmth from him and from the fire. And pretty soon you’re both done eating, the plate is forgotten and he is just holding you, curled up against his chest and safe in his arms as you both watch the flames and listen to the crackling of the wood.

You press your face into the crook of his neck, kissing the skin slowly, small kiss after small kiss. Dean groans low in his throat, adjusting in the chair so he can hook a finger under your chin, “What do you think you’re doin’?”

“Hmm?” you ask innocently before you pop up a little, brushing your lips lightly over his, “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Uh-huh,” he chuckles, the noise vibrating through his entire body as he nips at your bottom lip, tugging playfully, “Hey, you know what they say about sex camping, right?”

“What?” You laugh at his mischievous expression.

“It’s in-tents.” He busts out laughing and you roll your eyes, trying not to laugh.

“I can’t believe I let the mouth that just told that joke touch mine,” you tease.

His arms wrap around you, bringing you close for another kiss, “Oh this mouth is going to be touching a whole lot more than those lips tonight baby.”

You grab his chin between your fingers, “You’re such a damn dork.”

“I know,” he smiles, leaning down to kiss you and it’s gentle, sweet and passionate all at the same time. You can’t help but grin against his lips, your arms wrapping around the back of his neck, holding yourself to him as you forget how to breathe.

Dean breaks away first, panting, “You wanna take this inside?”

“Do you think it will stay up?” you ask.

“Well now I’m offended sweetheart,” he winks.

“Well I know you can keep that up,” you peck him on the lips, “I meant is that tent going to stay up?”

“Oh that…Well let’s test it out.” He smiles wickedly, standing suddenly with you in his arms, startling you, stomach dropping with how quickly he moves.

“Dammit Dean!”

He chuckles, “You should have seen your face.”

He sets you on the ground, not letting go. Your fingers lace through his and lead him to the tent. You unzip the flap and he crawls in behind you.

There really isn’t enough room to stand, but there isn’t any need. His fingers find the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head, tossing it to the side. As soon as it’s gone, you’re working on his belt, struggling.

“Here sweetheart.” He pushes your hands away, sitting back so he can get himself out of his clothes. You watch him, watch as he exposes the expanse of tanned and freckled skin, watching the muscles work just under the surface. You could look at him forever and be a very happy woman.

He clears his throat, “I think you’re a little overdressed.”

You giggle, laying back and shimmying out of your jeans, sliding your panties off with them. When they are by your knees you feel them ripped away, glancing up to see Dean hovering with dark eyes, “Goddammit baby.”

You push yourself up, taking his hard cock in your hand, stroking slowly as he breathes heavily, his head falling back as you nip at his neck.

“Fuck, stop,” he hisses between his teeth, his hands finding your face, kissing you hard.

He pulls away, olive eyes traveling you face, making your heart flutter in your chest. You wonder if it will ever not be like this and you pray that it always is because the love that you feel when he holds you, when he looks at you in moments like these take your breath away.

Dean lays back, pulling you with him, hands roaming your bare skin. His fingers hook around your thighs, guiding you to go higher but you crawl off and he raises an eyebrow.

“I did promise something mutual,” you wink, positioning yourself over his face so you looking down his body, watching his cock twitch against his stomach, precum smearing on his skin.

He growls underneath you, fingers parting your folds, giving himself a clear view of your wet pussy. He circles your clit, pressing against the nub, making your body quiver, your hips rocking and wanting more.

You let yourself fall forward, gripping his cock, teasing the tip with your tongue as he wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling you down against his mouth. Holy shit.

His tongue dips in your folds as sink down on his cock, bobbing up and down, sucking lightly. He groans against you, the vibrations making your hips roll, grinding down against his face and it drives him on.

His cock is heavy against your tongue and his hips buck, driving himself deeper into your mouth as you sink down, taking him until the head is bumping your throat, slowly rising again.

He swears against your core, holding you tighter, sucking on your clit, grazing his teeth over it, making sweat break out across your skin and you moan over his cock. Dean speeds up, frantically eating you out and it is all you can do to focus. Honestly that is probably his intention, because he is twitching against your tongue and the strained muscles of his stomach tell you he is struggling not to come.

Two fingers dip in you, curling against your g-spot and you come undone, yelling his name as the your vision goes white. You collapse on top of him, shaking uncontrollably as he continues to pump his fingers in and out, watching your pussy grip around them, feeling it clench greedily.

“G-g-god, Dean,” you stutter out, the aftershocks still rolling through you.

“I could watch this all fucking day sweetheart.” And he’s serious too, it isn’t some line, he likes making you feel good.

You roll off of him, glancing over, his green eyes bright and hungry. He takes his fingers, licking them off, making a show of it and you can’t help the tremble that rushes through your body. He sits up and you meet him halfway, immediately kissing, tasting yourself on his swollen lips.

The more you kiss, the sloppier and more desperate it gets and he’s pushing you back, “Need to feel you sweetheart.”

His weight rests against you as his lips travel down your neck and between your breasts, nipping, sucking marks. His thumb tweaks your nipple, making your pussy flutter, your back arch, “Dean, please.”

“Mhmm,” he murmurs, his fingers trailing down your body, coming to rest over your pussy. You rock, desperate for some sort of friction, making his fingers dip in and out, running over your needy core.

You whine as he removes his hand, lining himself up with your entrance, sliding his thick cock in slowly, inch by agonizingly slow inch, stretching you. Your neck locks back, eyes forced shut as you draw in long and shuddering breaths.

He bottoms out, letting himself fall forward, his lips finding your neck, “You with me sweetheart?”

You tangle your fingers in his short hair, pressing your forehead against his, “Always.”

He smiles softly, kissing you gently as he pulls his hips back, slowly thrusting forward again. Your moans are high and needy as your breaths mix.

You meet his thrusts, despite the nonexistent room between you and Dean holds you as close as he possibly can, groaning low, “You feel so good…I love you so fucking much sweetheart.”

You press your face into the crook of his neck as your stomach flutters, your orgasm teetering right there on the edge but you push it back because you want to feel him just a little while longer.

Dean buries himself inside you, shallow thrusts, circling his hips, keeping himself pressed right up against you so he can feel everything, and you can too. The twitch of his stomach muscles, the strain in his neck, the way his biceps tense to box you in beneath him, keeping you close.

“Y/N,” he groans, his hand searching for yours as his thrusts become more and more erratic and both of you are struggling to keep an even pace. You lace your fingers through his, squeezing, feeling your heart skip beats in you chest.

“Come for me Dean,” you whisper.

He grunts in response, pressing his forehead against yours as he shakes his head, jaw clenched as he focuses on you.

“Please Dean,” you whine, rolling your hips, holding back the dam that will inevitably break.

“Fuck,” he growls, thrusting forward roughly, pushing himself deep within you as his cock throbs, spilling within you.

You let yourself go, you entire body shaking from the effort as your orgasm consumes you, taking you over. You squeeze his hand, tug his hair as you repeat his name over and over, mixing with other indiscernible curses.

Dean collapses, his weight not doing much to keep you grounded as you tremble. He nuzzles against your face, soft kisses peppering your skin. You turn to meet his lips, running on this high, this feeling of total and complete bliss as he adjusts you both.

Dean holds you close, tucked under his arm, your head resting on his chest as his hand rubs up and down your bare arm. The quiet settles between you as you listen to the wind and the animals outside the comfort of the tent.

“We have to leave in the morning don’t we?” Dean mumbles quietly.

You swallow hard, nodding, “Yeah, Sam texted me earlier.”

“I fucking knew it,” He shakes his head, adjusting you both so he is laying nose to nose with you, the tips brushing.

“How?”

“You’ve been quiet, even when  I was doing a shit job with the tent.”

You smile, your fingers tracing the lines on your husband’s face, “I’m always quiet.”

“Not that quiet, you usually talk my ear off,” he chuckles, brushing your hair away from your face.

You eskimo kiss him, scrunching your nose, “I do not.”

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, “I could still tell.”

You grimace, “Sorry, I didn’t want to ruin our last night.”

He chuckles softly, his eyes following his fingers as they trace your face, “You didn’t and it’s not the last night….” He adjusts so you are both on your backs, his left arm hooked underneath you, his fingers sliding through yours, holding them up in the dim lantern light so you can see your rings, “That means you’re stuck with me forever sweetheart and we are just at the start.”

You can’t help but giggle, turning so you can press a kiss to the underside of his jaw, “You’re such a damn sap.”

He smiles, settling in, “You love it.”

“No, I love you Dean.”

____

Twenty-five miles to Spokane, twenty-five miles until this is over, until it is back to reality. Dean reaches across the bench seat, taking your hand and pressing it to his lips, “I still can’t believe you’re my wife.”

You chuckle, squeezing his fingers, “I can’t believe I’m a Winchester.”

He laughs, shaking his head, “You’ve always been one baby, we just made it official. I can’t picture my life without you, haven’t been able to for awhile.”

You can’t help the red that creeps up your neck to your cheeks. Dean catches it out of the corner of his eye, looking away from the road long enough to kiss your cheek. When his eyes move back to the road you reach up and press your lips against his jaw, watching as he smiles uncontrollably.

You snuggle up against his side, “Honestly though? I kinda missed hunting.”

Dean laughs, steering the car onto the exit, “Me too, I don’t think we are cut out for white picket fences.”

You shake your head, “What? No dog, two-point-five kids and a mini-van?”

He scoffs, “Number one, never trading Baby in for a minivan. And number two, you as a soccer mom? Yeah fucking right.”

You crinkle your nose, poking his ribs, “I really think you could pull off the minivan… Oh and the grandpa shorts.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t do shorts.”

You start howling right there, “Dean, I’ve seen those cutoffs. I’ve seen you in those cutoffs, don’t pull that shit with me.”

“Hey, hey, hey, what happens in the bunker stays in the bunker.” he smiles, pulling into the motel.

“What, you don’t want Sam to know that you have a pair of shorts shorter than any of mine?” You tease.

“I told you, I fucked it up and wasn’t ruining another pair of jeans.”

“Uh-huh,” you wink, “I think you just like to tease me.”

As you go to slide across the seat and out the door, his strong arms wrap around you, his teeth scraping over the sensitive skin of your neck before he kisses it, “You’re damn right I do.”

You wiggle around so you’re kneeling on the seat, pressing your lips firmly against his, your fingers threading through his hair as he deepens it. His arms wrap around you, pulling you so you’re straddling his lap, holding you close. In a matter of seconds, you are making out like teenagers, not giving a shit about who can see.

In between short gasps and your lips locked against his, you are vaguely aware you have this hunt, but you just want a few more seconds like this, a few more moments with your husband. His fingers dip under the back of your pants, pressing into your skin.

A knock at the window makes you jump, your head hitting the roof with a soft thump. Dean grabs you immediately, inspecting your head as you rub it.

“Goddammit Sam,” he growls and you can hear his brother’s laughter muffled through the window.

“Here sweetheart,” his voice softens as he cups your cheeks, giving you one last kiss before helping you out of the car and onto the asphalt.

Glancing up, Sam is still chuckling but you close the distance, hugging him tightly, “Asshole.”

He pats your back, “I couldn’t help it. It’s good to see you.”

“I can’t hear you over my head pounding,” you joke, and he starts laughing again, turning to Dean.

“Glad you guys are back, it’s weird when it is quiet.”

Dean leans back against the car, “Well maybe if you’d find a hobby, or go out once in awhile…”

“Yeah, missed you too Dean,” Sam shakes his head.

You can’t help but smile, taking the half step to stand by Dean and you immediately feel his arm wrap around your waist as he stands, “So Y/N gave me the rundown on the way here, where are we starting?”

Sam nods towards the motel room, “I can show you the pictures…Definitely demons, there was sulfur at the scene when I went…”

He gives you guys the details as you go into the room. This guy just changed overnight, left his wife and kids, five days later he’s dead in the middle of a house after making a mess of all of them. The local police are thinking serial killer, hell it looked like it, but you three of course knew better, especially with all the signs there.

You cross your arms, looking over the pictures, “By why does it keep switching bodies? I mean, it could just stay in the same body and do all this.”

Sam shakes his head, “No clue.”

Your brow furrows, looking at the splatter patterns, the insides of people scattered across the floor, some memories threatening to come back that you push aside. This looks a little like something you’ve seen a long time ago.

“More than one?” Dean asks.

“The timelines are too streamline, nothing is happening at the same time.” Sam sighs, pointing to the dates he has scribbled on notebook paper.

You rub your face, “So we have three days until another family turns up dead? Right?”

Sam nods, “If he sticks to the pattern.”

“Well then let’s get crackin.” You grab a file, starting to look through photos, trying to connect the victims. But all there is is blood and gore and this nagging feeling in the back of your mind

_____

Two mornings later you’ve gotten four hours of sleep, you know these files, you know the witnesses and still not a goddamn thing.

Sam’s phone rings and he answers it right away, “Agent Page….Can you give me an address?…Yep, be there in fifteen.”

He hangs up and Dean perks up in the seat next to you, “Got one?”

Sam nod, “Yeah, but it’s a day early.”

You push yourself off the chair, grabbing your fed suit from the closet, “Well let’s go see what we see.”

At the seen Sam talks with the first responders. Nothing’s been touched yet, no one was alive when they arrived.

You wander through the tape, watching as people collect evidence and take photos of the bodies. The family’s insides litter the room. Blood runs up the walls, the mother’s intestines are laying beside her on the ground. The one little boy, his throat is slit so deep you can see his spine. The father? There is barely anything left of him, and the little girl, oh god, her body looks like a pretzel.

And suddenly this is a little too real, a little too much and you don’t know why you didn’t see it in the photos.

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice is in your ear and you come back, realizing there are tears sliding down your cheeks.

“Dean, I-Dean it’s the demon.” You hiss so only he can hear, whipping around to face him.

“What do you-,” his eyes frantically search your face, stopping when the realization dawns on him, “Let’s get you out of here.”

He doesn’t care who is watching, dropping the fed facade and wrapping his arm around your waist, leading you out the door. You don’t realize you are shaking, saying his name over and over until he has you in the front of the Impala with him.

You don’t remember any of the drive, just see the images flashing in your mind over and over, feeling the blood that isn’t yours warm against your skin. You can’t remember most of it, just flashes here and there, little pieces, but fuck it haunts you like it just happened.

The next thing you know you are sitting in the motel room, a glass of whiskey in your hand and Dean’s sitting across from you, totally helpless. You haven’t said a word since the crime scene, you haven’t cried anymore, your face set like stone.

“Sweetheart, I need you to say something.” His voice is careful, his hand covering yours on the table, squeezing gently.

You take a long sip, your jaw working as you work up the courage to speak, “It’s the demon. The one that killed my family.”

Dean swallows hard, “How do you know?”

You sigh, half scoffing, “Because I’ve seen him do it before.”

“I thought he was taken care of-…”

You shake your head, “Bobby exorcised him and that’s how I started hunting and now he’s back. It was twelve years ago Dean, that’s way before any of us knew anything about how to kill a damn demon.”

Dean stays quiet and you down some more of the amber liquid, “He’s just going to keep killing until someone stops him, he get’s off on it. Fuck the damn thing might have been a serial killer when it was human, the way he feels about it goes beyond normal demon chaos…”

“How do you know so much about him if he was exorcised before he got to you?”

You can’t look Dean in the eye, it’s one of your deepest secrets. Only Bobby had known and it died with him. You’ve never talked about it, you never wanted to, you’ve never had to. You’ve never even said it outloud.

“Dean-” you swallow, struggling to find the words. His chair scrapes on the floor and he kneels in front of you.

“He possessed you?” Dean guesses and your heart sinks in your chest. You knew he would figure it out as soon as you started talking, he’s one of the smartest people you know. And the fact that this demon isn’t leaving a trail and you survived, he could add that up in his sleep.

You can’t look at him, it’s like acknowledging it makes it real. His fingers touch your face gently, and his index hooks under your chin, “This is not your fault Y/N, you didn’t kill your family.”

The tears trickle down your cheeks, “But I wasn’t strong enough to save them.”

“You were possessed, you couldn’t….”

You finally look at him, scoffing, “Your brother took control from the damn devil to keep from hurting you and I couldn’t…I-I couldn’t even stop a demon.”

“Listen to me,” he takes your tear stained face in his hands, “you didn’t do this….Y/N?”

You shake your head back and forth, meeting his eyes, “Dean, I saw myself kill them.”

He grimaces, “I’m sorry sweetheart.”

You break down, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and his arms hook around you. You’ve held this in for so long, and because the memories are fuzzy, because for the most part you were along for the ride and the demon had kept you tucked away, it was easy to forget.

“We’re going to get this son of a bitch Y/N, I promise.”

“I know I am,” you nod, your words firm as you squeeze him, “I’m not letting him get away this time.”

After a few hours, Dean gets you somewhat calmed down and Sam comes back. You use some lame excuse to get a shower. Dean will catch him up, you don’t think you can have that conversation again, not right now.

You’re looking at yourself in the mirror, padding at your damp hair when you hear their raised voices on the other side of the door.

“Of course I don’t want her near this Sam!”

“Then why don’t you-…”

“Would you sit it out? Hell, have you ever sat it out?” Dean sounds on edge.

“Dude, this is personal for her though. She’s-”

“When has it ever not been personal for any hunter?”

“It possessed her Dean, you can’t be okay with this!” Sam verges on shouting. You know he’s worried you might mess this up, shit, you’re not even sure your head is in the game.

“I’m not! Okay? I’m not, but she’s not going to sit this out so I’m going to do everything I can to protect her.”

Even though you’re still upset, you feel your heart swell a little bit. Dean gets it, he gets you. He sees this as a partnership, as you and him against everything. And at one point, he might have tried to get you to sit this one out, but he knows you better than that, he won’t do that to you. When it comes right down to it, he will make sure you’re the one that gets to drive the blade through that demon’s skull.

You get dressed quickly, coming out of the bathroom, Sam looking at you warily and Dean give you a half smile, “Good?”

You nod, moving up to the table, “Um, so we’ve got a few days to go because he does like to torture the people.”

Sam clears his throat, “What are we looking for?”

“Families, someone acting out of routine, multiple kids. He,” you close your eyes, “he likes torturing the kids the most.”

Dean’s hand is pressed in the middle of your back as you look at the map, reassuring you as you keep going, “We need to talk to anyone that the father talked to since he was possessed. He jumps into another one he met.”

Sam sighs, “How do you know that?”

“I met the teenager he was possessing before me,” you remember, “so it can be anyone, not just the parents in the family.”

“Well,” Sam shrugs, “the good news is he worked from home so he couldn’t have met too many people in the last two days. I’ll start making calls.”

You glance up at Dean who smiles reassuringly, “We’ve got this.”

“I know,” you press your lips against his, kissing him gently.

____

Your breath fogs up the window of the Impala as you stare out of it, watching the house through the dark. This is it, “Are you sure Sam?”

“Yeah,” his voice comes from the backseat, “No one in the family has been seen in days, the father delivered a package to the last house the day before they died.”

You nod, not able to take your eyes away from the house, “Sounds about right.”

“Sam, give us a minute,” Dean’s voice is low and when you hear the back door crack, Dean’s hand is on your shoulder, turning you to face him, “Y/N, I can take care of this for you.”

You shake your head, “I need to do it.”

His knuckles brush over your cheek gently, “I know baby. Nothing is going to happen to you in there, we are going to gank this son of a bitch.”

“I’ve been thinking about that, we can’t, can we? Not without killing somebody’s dad, someone’s husband,” you ponder out loud, your voice heavy with grief. Even though you’d like nothing more than to see this son of a bitch dead, you don’t want someone to have to go through what you went through.

“If we exorcise him, he’s going to come back. More people will die.”

You nod, glancing back towards the house, “I know. I didn’t say there was an easy answer….Let’s do this.”

You check the demon knife in your pocket as you slide out of the Impala. You don’t have a plan, hell, it’s just one demon. So you start walking, strolling right up the front walk way to the door, pressing the bell, despite Dean and Sam hissing behind you.

_Ding, ding, ding, dong._

Suddenly Dean is right behind you, Sam’s disappeared, probably heading around the back as you hear light footsteps on the other side of the door.

No one answers. So you hit the bell again.

_Ding, ding, ding, dong._

“Alright, let’s party,” you try the knob, surprised as hell when it is unlocked.

You pull out the knife as you enter the dark house, Dean close behind. Even though you had seen lights ten minutes ago, the inside is completely dark now. He knows you’re coming.

Everything is quiet, you swear you can hear your heart pounding in your chest. You don’t even make it to the next room…

“Y/N, oh Y/N,” the voice is sing-songy, calling, taunting you, “come on darling I can smell the guilt rolling off of you.”

You glance back at Dean who nods towards the stairs, that’s where it had come from.

“Come on Y/N, it’s been so long since we played.” He calls again and it makes your stomach turn.

Slowly, you creep up the stairs, not that it matters, he knows you are coming. But you are scared, in your head he was so powerful and you don’t know how strong he is compared to other demons you’ve faced. Ones like him, ones that claw their way out of hell again are always difficult.

As soon as you hit the top landing you feel the squish under your boot, blood pooled into the carpet and you see the body it is coming from, torn to shreds in the corner, blonde hair stained red in the dim light. Leaning up against her in a pile is a much smaller body, but it’s so mangled you have no idea who it might have been. Fuck, you are too late.

You rush the last few steps before Dean can grab your arm to the only doorway lit in the hallway. And as you enter, you stop dead. The guy from the picture Sam had found, his eyes flash black as he holds the knife to a blonde girl’s neck. She can’t be older than seventeen.

“Long time no see Y/N.”

“Let her go!” you growl, taking a step in.

“Don’t think that’s in the cards dear, where’s that Winchester you had with you.”

You know Dean is clearing the rest of the house, but you highly doubt there are any survivors, “Kill her you lose any leverage you have.”

“Let her go I lose it too, looks like we are at a bit of a oh, what do you call it, stalemate perhaps?”

“I’m going to kill you either way.”

He points the knife in your direction, “You always did have grit. I’m telling you, out of all the people I possessed, you were one of the most enticing.”

“Last chance,” Dean says as he steps up behind you.

The demon chuckles, “I don’t think so…How about let’s play let’s make a deal? How about I trade her for you?”

“Him too you have a deal,” you say quickly.

“Y/N no!” Dean snaps behind you, unsure of what you are doing but you have an idea. A crazy, stupid idea, but an idea.

“I like this,” he smiles wickedly, “how does that work?”

You pull up your shirt a little, showing the anti possession tattoo, holding the knife to it.

“Deal,” he says quickly.

“No Y/N,” Dean shouts but it is too late, you slice open the tattoo, breaking it and black smoke fills the air, jamming itself down your throat.

“This is a lot like I remember,” your fingers stretch, your voice yours but you aren’t the one driving.

“Y/N?” Dean grabs your body and you can feel your muscles in your face turn up even though you don’t want them to, even though you brace yourself against the motion.

“She’s not home right now, but she’s going to know what it feels like to tear you apart.” It laughs, flicking your wrist and Dean flies up against the wall with a crash.

“Y/N, please,” Dean focuses on you as the demon stalks towards him, “you can do this sweetheart.”

“She’s nice and cozy in here. I’m just trying to decide what we are going to do first.”

“Go to hell you son of a bitch!” Dean growls.

“Been there, done that, I don’t recommend.”

You struggle, seeing the images flash in its mind of your hands ripping Dean apart. No, no, you won’t let it happen, you can’t. You can’t lose Dean. This was a shitty plan but it is all you could think of at the moment. And now? You aren’t strong enough to save your husband, you are going to lose him the same way. Except this time, you will remember it all.

“Dean! Y/N!” Sam comes crashing in the room, but the demon just cackles, slamming him against another wall, his body falling limp and unconscious. The father and daughter are cowering in the corner, all but useless to this.

Your hand comes up to touch Dean’s face, “You know, me and Y/N are old pals, and she’s changed. You wanna know what she is most afraid of Deano?”

“Shut the fuck up!” He snaps, trying to shake the demon’s hold.

“She’s afraid to lose you.” It whispers in his ear, “So let’s make those fears a little more real.”

It’s hand, your hand, reels back, punching Dean square in the jaw. No! You try to shake it as it does it again. Fuck, your heart breaks in your chest and Dean refuses to fight back. You’re begging him to put up a fight, but his green eyes lock with yours as your fist collides with him again and again.

You screech inside, fighting like hell, but the demon is barely having to strain to hold you at bay. And then it reaches down, the knife you had dropped to the floor, taking the handle in your fingers.

And you stand back up, your face twisted, and you are panicking, unable to gain any ground.

The fear flashes across Dean’s face as he fights against the force holding him there, “I love you Y/N.”

You’re not going to do this. You aren’t going to let this demon use you to kill him. You can’t. No.

Your arm goes to thrust the knife forward, “No!”

Everything stops as you stumble back, unable to catch your breath, panting, “No.”

Dean drops forward, “Y/N?”

Your breaths come in short gasps, this not registering completely, but you can feel it, feel the demon screaming and fighting against you, all kinds of pissed off. You have him, you have control.

“Dean?” you look down at him on his knees and his terrified eyes looking back at you.

“Sweetheart?”

You don’t know what to say, how do you tell him there is only one option. Swallowing hard, you whisper, “I’m so sorry Dean, I love you.”

He’s not even confused as you flip the knife in your hand, he rushes towards you, trying to stop you but you are too fast, burying the demon blade in your torso.

“No! Y/N!” His hands are on you as you slump to the ground. Your skin burns, the demon fading away inside of you and you are praying that you can hold on long enough for Dean to save you.

“D-dean?” You can taste the copper on your tongue, you must have hit something important, shit.

“You’re okay sweetheart, I can fix this.”

You grip his shirt, frantic, “I did it.”

“I know baby,” he looks away, shouting at the people, “Do you guys have a first aid kit somewhere…Move!… Sam! You good?”

“Yeah,” he grumbles somewhere in the background.

Everything gets a little fuzzy around the edges and you swear you can taste blood in your mouth. You didn’t want to die, that hadn’t been your intention, but you had to do it, you had to kill the demon.

Dean cradles your head, “Why do you always gotta do this, huh? Why do you always gotta try and be the goddamn hero?”

You laugh, coughing a little as a wave of pain courses through you, “Cause I’m a Winchester.”

“Oh yeah, you’re real funny,” he rips a bandage open, pressing the gauze to your side, “I’m gonna get you patched up, but I need you to keep talking to me. Can you feel everything?”

You grunt, clenching your teeth against the pain, “Unfortunately…I can’t breathe.”

“Sam! Grab me that bandage,” his face disappears from view, “I don’t know how you missed your lungs.”

You chuckle, feeling the sweat break out across your cold skin, “Stab in the dark?”

“You’re not funny,” he growls.

“Yes I am,” you choke out.

“Can we move her?” Sam’s voice comes out of the background.

“I don’t know,” Dean’s worry shows, “she’s bleeding a lot. I gotta get her stitched up.”

Stuff starts turning black around the edges, everything sounding far away as you feel like you are getting only half the air you need, struggling like hell to breathe. Dammit.

“Y/N?”

You can’t answer him, you can’t make yourself focus on anything as you slip into unconsciousness.

_____

You can hear faint beeps, and the air is so clean it burns your nose. It takes a lot but you force your eyes open, aware of the warm hand wrapped around yours.

“D-dean?” You cough, throat so dry it feels like it’s sticky.

He jumps in place as you look over to him, “Y/N?”

You can see the relief spread over his features as he brings your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. His skin is split open over his cheekbone, “You look like you went a few rounds with a meat grinder.”

He shakes his head, “You have a hell of a right hook sweetheart.”

You look past him at the white room, the monitor. He follows your gaze, “I had to bring you to the ER, you stopped breathing.”

“That explains the headache,” you cough again, Dean grabs a water bottle, popping the cap off and handing it to you.

“You had a collapsed lung,” and even though he doesn’t say anything else, you know he’s mad.

“Dean, I had to.”

“Jesus Y/N, what were you thinking? What if you would have-”

“I wasn’t going to let it hurt you.”

“No! What if you would have died Y/N? Did you even think of that?” His voice is barely contained.

You look away, down at your hands, “You know the answer to that.”

A knock on the door stops him from answering. You both look to see the father and the daughter standing there, unsure what to do. After a moment, he takes a few steps in, walking up to the side of your bed and extending his hand. You take it, shaking it, “I don’t know what the hell that all was, your husband tried to explain it and I’m still not sure what all happened. But I do- I do know I owe you my life and my daughter’s life. So thank you.”

You force a smile, glancing past the man to Dean. His green eyes soften and he sighs, giving you a slight nod. This is what made it worth it. Even though you got your revenge, even though you killed the bastard, it didn’t really matter. Honestly, over the years you’d accepted it. You haven’t forgotten your family but you don’t dwell on them anymore either. If you’d never been possessed, if you’d never started hunting, you wouldn’t have ever met Dean.

“You’re welcome.”

He smiles uncomfortably, turning and saying a quick goodbye to Dean before heading out of the room.

“When am I getting out of here?”

Dean raises an eyebrow, “You literally just woke up.”

You roll your eyes, “Not the worst I’ve ever had.”

Sam comes strolling in, “I just got a call from Garth and he could use some help with a case down in Texas.”

Dean shakes his head, “I’m going to take Y/N back to the-.”

“No!” You cut him off.

“Sam’s got this,” but you can tell by the look on Sam’s face that he doesn’t.

“I’ll sit it out, research only?” you try.

“You’re such a liar,” Dean grumbles.

“I promise.”  
  


“Fine, let’s get you discharged,” he stands up, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before disappearing to find the doc.”

What you didn’t know that one hunt with Garth was going to turn into hunt after hunt, never making it back to the Bunker.

_______

Dean’s arms wrap around you, “I can’t believe it’s been three months already.”

You look up in the mirror, meeting his eyes, “No, it can’t be, it’s October-”

“Baby, did you hit your head? It’s November 5th.”

That can’t be right, it isn’t right. There is no way you’ve been away from the bunker that long, that you’ve been chasing these demons for this long.

“No-,” you shake your head but stop when Dean nods. You look away from his eyes, your face scrunching, trying to think. No, no, no. Because if it’s been that long- just no.

“Are you alright sweetheart?” Dean turns you in his arms so he can cup your cheek, his olive eyes searching your face worriedly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I think just being on the road this long is getting to me, you know?”

He smiles softly,his face warm, brushing the stray hairs away from your face, “I know what you mean baby, I’m going to be happy to be back to our bed, watch some TV, get a shower in my own shower.”

You play with the front of his t-shirt, “Have me join you in that shower…”

“Hells yeah.” He bends down and kisses you, “I’m going to go grab us some grub for the road, you get your shit together and get Sam’s ass in gear and we can get home.”

You force a smile, “Sounds like a plan.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” His eyes are full of concern as he touches your face with his fingertips.

“Yes, I’m just tired.”

“Okay,” you know he doesn’t really buy it, but he won’t push either, not until you get home. Hopefully by then you can think of some excuse. Hell, you have four hours in the car to think of one.

He kisses you one more time before hesitantly letting you go, heading for the door. He glances behind him before heading out.

As soon as you hear the Impala rev you rush to the nightstand, grabbing your phone, looking for a number. You find it, dialing, “Please pick up, c’mon, don’t put me on hold….”

“Lebanon Health, this is Cindy, how can I help you?”

“Hi…This is Y/N Smith and I need to make an appointment, I’m past due for my depo shot.” Fuck, how could you have been this stupid.

“Hold on one second for me there Miss Smith, yes, it looks like you should have been here a little over a month ago. You missed an appointment”

“I apologize, I was on a business trip and I just got back. Is there anyway to fit me in this week?”

“Thursday at ten thirty?”

You rack your brain quickly, “That should work.”

“All we need you to bring is your insurance card and you will need to take a pregnancy test since you missed your last appointment so come prepared for that.”

“Okay thank you.” Goddammit.

“Is there anything else I can do for you today Miss Smith?”

“No, um, thanks again.”

You hang up, maybe a little too abruptly, your heart racing in your chest. You’ve never been this stupid. The worst part is, if you would have remembered, if you wouldn’t have been so caught up in this damn hunt you could have just told Dean, told him to wrap it up, but you have gotten so used to it you blatantly forgot. He’s going to be so pissed and it is so your fault.

And suddenly the walls feel like they are closing in. You should have started your period again and you didn’t, something should have felt different if it has been that long, right? Oh fuck, no.

Dean’s been gone less than ten minutes, that should give you enough time to run to the drug store down the street. You could wait until Thursday, but this hole in your gut, your heart beating frantically, there is no way you can.

Grabbing your jacket, you race out the door, jogging the block. And everything moves too slow, like you are trying to fight in the mud.

The automatic doors that don’t seem to open fast enough today, you can’t find the right fucking aisle, and when you do, you aren’t sure which one to chose. You go with the most expensive, because that one should be the best, it should work, right?

The line takes forever, the lady behind the counter going at a snail’s pace and you are honestly about ten seconds from just walking out the damn door with it. It’s not like this little fucking store had crack security.

Then the little old lady motions you forward, scanning the item and you pay her with cash as quickly as you can, not even waiting for the change from the fifty that you handed her.

As you exit out into the chilly air, you shove the small box down the back of your pants, hiding it with your jacket on the off chance Dean beat you back. You fucking pray that he didn’t, he never keep his hands off you and you don’t know how you are going to hide this. And fuck you don’t want to answer for this one, not now, you’re so scared.

Luckily, you get back to the room before him. But as soon as you grab your bag you can hear the Impala’s engine pulling in the lot so you shove the box in your bag, tossing clothes on top of it as quickly as you can.

Slinging it over your shoulder you grab the last of your stuff and head for the car, Sam coming out of his room as Dean honks the horn. He’s impatient, and you don’t know how you are going to handle this when you get home tonight. You two are always all over each other, hell, last night you were, almost every night you are. He’s going to know something is up when you don’t want to. You’re so screwed.

You climb in the back seat, despite Dean’s confused expression, “I just want to catch a nap.”

He nods, brow furrowing, he’s worried and honestly he should be. You went from love struck idiot to withdrawn in less than an hour. And you always talk to him, Dean’s your go to, he’s your rock, but you can’t tell him this, not until you know how bad you’ve fucked your lives up.

The miles pass too slowly, and you can’t even bring yourself to eat the food Dean got you. You close your eyes, facing the back of the seat as you lay down so you can pretend to be asleep.

You two have never talked about this, there’s no way Dean wants kids, he doesn’t want an apple pie life and a hunter’s life is no place for them. You’ve never given it much though, fuck, you never thought you would have a steady relationship, let alone be married so it never even crossed your mind.

You can’t want this, you can barely take care of yourself, how in the hell are you supposed to take care of someone else?

All you can think about is how mad he is going to be, either way. If you aren’t, you forgot, you fucked up. And if you are, fuck, if you are he’s going to be all kinds of pissed, and it wasn’t his fault.

He’s going to hate you.

It takes everything you have to keep it together, and all you can think about is that box in your duffel. You can’t stop your mind from racing, you can’t stop panicking.

As Dean pull in the bunker, you don’t know what to do, “I’m going to go get a shower, I stink.”

It’s the best excuse you can come up with, and your heart breaks a little when you see how confused Dean is when you don’t touch him on your way past. Fuck, get your shit together Y/N.

You all but run through the halls to the bathroom, locking it behind you on the chance that Dean would try to join you, but he had looked pretty hurt when you had rushed him.

As quick as you can you start the shower, letting the noise of the water mask you ripping open the box. You read the instructions quickly, going to the toilet, willing yourself to have to pee. You’re so fucking nervous that you almost can’t.

When you are done you set it on the sink, pacing back and forth. You could get in the shower, wait, but you can’t make yourself, you’re too agitated, too on edge.

“C’mon, come on,” you dance around impatiently, watching the little stick. Fucking hell, why does this take so damn long?

You hold it up again, the little indicator turning and as it changes you start crying, sinking to the floor as your heart sinks in your chest.


	21. Breeding Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Dean have a discussion you never thought you would have

“Y/N!” Dean’s raised voice comes from the other side of the door again, his knuckles rapping on the wood but you can’t bring yourself to answer, just pull your knees closer to your chest.

“Sweetheart? Are you okay?” His voice cracks, “Fuck baby, you’re scaring the shit outta me, please just answer me.”

You try to stop the sob but fail and Dean must hear it because you hear the door groan as his weight pushes against it. You hear him swear as the lock jiggles, the knob turning and he rushes in.

You can’t look up, you can’t face him, you just can’t.

You stay huddled between the sink and the wall, unable to do anything but shake and cry. You’re too embarrassed, too ashamed to face him.

He kneels in front of you, face laced with concern, “Y/N, what’s wr-,” but his words are lost as he sees the stick and the abandoned box on the tile beside you. You swallow hard, looking away at the wall, fighting to keep the tears down.

“Y/N?” he whispers and you are waiting for him to explode. You want him to, you want him to yell and tell you what an idiot you are.

When you don’t answer he rips through the instructions, reading as quick as he can. You grimace, still not wanting to look at his face but you can see his shaking hands, “Y/N, why did you think you were pregnant?”

You can’t help the tears, how calm he is, how neutral he is staying, it’s scaring you, “I-I didn’t realize how long it had been…I missed my appointment while we were hunting. Dean, I’m sorry, I’m so s-sorry.”

“C’mere,” his hands gently touch you but you jerk away, curling closer to the wall, refusing. He gives up, sitting on the ground near you, leaning back against the wall.

You bury your face against your knees, “I have an appointment on Thursday, I won’t let this happen again.”

“You’re not pregnant though?” He asks, and there’s something in his voice you can’t place.

You shake your head.

“Talk to me, what’s wrong then?”

You take a deep breath, swallowing, “Because I was so scared that I was, and then it was negative. And I-I-I…”

His hand brushes over yours, and you let him take your hand. You finally look up at him and he looks terrified. You shake your head, “You don’t want this and we’re hunters-…”

“Don’t go Thursday,” he cuts you off.

“What?”

“Don’t go,” he clears his throat.

You shake your head in disbelief, not understanding.

He looks at the floor, “I think about it a lot, I think about you having our kids, how good you’d be at it. Don’t get me wrong sweetheart, I’m fucking terrified, but I want it and I want it with you…I just never thought I’d get the chance. But one thing I’ve learned being with you is that everything is possible…Don’t go.”

The realization hits you, how big that was for him to admit. You’re both hunters who have lost so much, hunters that didn’t think you’d ever have a shot at the apple pie life. Maybe, just maybe, you do.

“Are you serious Dean?”

“As a heart attack, which is what you about gave me when you locked yourself in here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he rubs your knee, “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“You’re not mad?”

He shakes his head, “I’m a little pissed that you didn’t just tell me, I thought I did something to make you mad at me, but I get it.”

He pulls his hand away, lifting his arm, and you scoot across the floor, curling up against his side as he wraps his arm around your shoulder. It feels right, like home, and it is because with him is where you belong. His hand rubs up and down your arm as you think about him, about his reaction, about what he said.

“What do you mean you think about it a lot?” You ask quietly.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head, “Nothing.”

“Apparently it is something,” you pry.

“Just sometimes I have dreams about it,” he answers too quickly, and even if it might be partially true, it isn’t everything,

“What else?”

He leans over and kisses the top of your head, “It’s stupid.”

You lean against him, reaching over, your hand running over his chest, “Tell me.”

“It’s dumb,” he swallows hard, working up the courage, “but sometimes when I come inside you, I just think about how - I don’t know - it’s filling you up, and just how perfect you are and how you would look, and how good at it you would be- fuck…”

You kiss the underside of his jaw, “Dean Winchester, do you have a breeding kink?”

“Shut-up,” he growls, blushing crimson.

You forget yourself as you crawl on his lap, straddling his legs, holding his face between your hands, “Why are you embarrassed?”

He shakes his head, his jaw clenching quickly, “Because it’s just a fantasy and it’s dumb, you don’t-.”

“What if I do?”

“What?” His eyes search your face.

You swallow, “What if I said I was just a little disappointed when it was negative, and that scares the hell out of me, but it’s true.”

He stops breathing for a moment, his eyes locked with yours, “Are you serious Y/N?”

You bite your bottom lip and nod, “We are having this discussion, and I need to know if you are serious too.”

His hands find either side of your face as his tongue darts between his parted lips, “Let me show you how serious I am sweetheart.”

He presses his lips to yours, kissing you gently as his fingers caress your face. Your lips part, his tongue moving perfectly against yours. You relax into it, letting his sureness, his warmth wash over you.

“Dean, are you sure?” you whisper against his lips.

“I’m not gonna stop until that thing is a pink plus,” he growls against your lips, nipping at them. “Let’s take this to our room.”

“Okay,” you nod, rocking back on your feet and standing up. Dean jumps up, and suddenly your feet are off the ground as he picks you up, holding you to his chest.

“Dean!” you giggle as he toes open the door, carrying you down the hallway.

He nuzzles your neck, “Yes?”

“Don’t stop,” you crane your neck to press your lips against his neck. He growls low in his throat, kicking your door open, shutting it behind him with a thump. He strides over to the bed, dropping you to the mattress lightly, crawling over you.

His lips never leave yours as you move up the bed, his hands pushing under your shirt, rough and calloused skin leaving goosebumps on yours.

“God sweetheart,” he groans.

Fuck, you can’t think straight. Less than an hour ago you were so scared, so terrified that this man was going to be livid with you  and now all you can think of is how much you love him, and how much you want this with him.

You frantically work at his jeans, shoving them down his hips as soon as you get them unbuttoned. He tears at your shirt, sliding it over your head and as soon as it’s gone his mouth is on your breasts, nipping at the tops, sucking marks as you struggle to unclasp your bra.

You push his flannel down his shoulders as he swears under his breath, getting up on his knees for a moment, tossing it somewhere in the room along with his t-shirt. You sit up, your fingers tracing the skin of his stomach to the waistband of his boxer briefs.

He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth as your fingers dip into the fabric, slowly pulling it down, his hard cock springing free. His hands move over your body to your jeans, pushing them down, “Lay back sweetheart.”

You let yourself fall back against the pillows and Dean tugs your jeans and panties down your legs, watching you as he exposes your skin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles as he drops down between your legs, bringing your knees over his shoulders.

“Dean,” your fingers tangle in his hair as he kisses your stomach, sucking a dark mark right above your hip.

He smiles against your skin, his lips and tongue making a trail until you can feel his warm breath over your pussy. You squirm in his arms, desperate for him, the anticipation killing you slowly. His calloused hands spread across your stomach, holding you still as he licks from your entrance to your clit.

A moan slips from your lips as you adjust, pressing yourself against his mouth, your hips rocking as he sets a rhythm. He groans against you, sucking your clit between his teeth, rolling the sensitive nub with his tongue.

You suck in a breath, your hand finding his and holding on as he takes you higher, taking his time doing it, making you squirm and pant.

“Dean,” you whine, his name a plea, and he squeezes your fingers in response, never stopping that damn tongue and those sinful lips.

“Sweetheart,” his one hand leaves your stomach, two fingers sliding into your needy core and you tighten around them, and it gets harder to breath as you moan for him, sweat breaking out across your flushed skin.

He crooks them against your g-spot, curling them again and again as he sucks gently at your clit, pushing you over the edge.

“D-dean,” your eyes press shut as your pussy clenches around his fingers, your fingers squeezing tightly on his other hand, nails biting into his skin. Your entire body shakes as the warmth spreads through you, your wetness seeping over his fingers and moments later they are replaced by his mouth, licking greedily.

You can barely breathe as he crawls over you, his mouth leaving a trail of wet kisses over your stomach, up between your breasts, his thumb running over your nipple, making you arch against him.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him up to kiss you and your lips move desperately against his, tasting yourself on his tongue and lips. He growls low, pushing his body against yours, and he ruts his hard cock against your pussy.

“Please Dean,” you beg, wanting to feel him inside you, wanting that connection.

He nips at the soft skin right below your ear, “You want me to fill you up sweetheart?”

And his words make you shiver, there is so much there. You know it feeds into the moment, you can feel how the words make you tremble, make you want him more, make your skin feel like it’s on fire and you can’t get enough of him. But it’s also his way of asking, his way of making sure you are certain of this.

“Yes,” your fingers dig into his shoulders. He smiles, this soft little thing before he kisses you quickly, sitting back on his knees, looking over your body, appreciating every bit of you.

His hand trails over your stomach, flattening just south of your belly button,  his thumb rubbing the skin, bringing goosebumps to the surface as his cock twitches against your inner thigh. Then his eyes meet yours, making sure, looking again for any hesitation.

You nod. It’s more than you wanting to do this, it’s wanting to do this with him, for him. It goes back to everything you two are built on, honesty and openness, being able to trust each other without exception. And even though it’s gone way beyond anything you could ever imagine, it all started right here.

“Don’t be gentle,” you whisper. Dean sucks in a big breath, the air hissing between his teeth as his eyes darken.

His hand grab your hips, lifting your ass off the bed, dragging you to him. His fingers hold you firm as his other hand leaves, stoking his cock, lining the tip up with your entrance, sinking in with one fluid movement. Your pussy clenches in response as he buries himself, holding there as your legs shake, and you call out for him.

You reach, your fingertips grabbing at his muscular thighs, “Move, please Dean.”

He growls, pulling back, almost all the way out before slamming into you again, his skin smacking off of yours. You claw at his skin as he repeats them motion, his hands holding your legs bent against your stomach.

“Harder,” your words drive him and he picks up the pace, becoming a yelling mess underneath him.

“I’m gonna fill you up sweetheart, keep going until you’re all full and dripping,” his possessive words mixed with his cock dragging in and out makes your blood rush through your body, your skin feel like you’re hooked up to electricity.

“Yes,” you choke out as he takes you higher, taking what he wants, and fuck it’s hotter than hell, it turns you on like you never thought it would.

Fuck, and then he’s grunting, these primal noises that go straight to your pussy, leaving you desperate and clenching around him as he pounds against that spot that makes you crazy.

“Fuck Y/N,” he holds you tight, his pace slowing but his thrust becomming harder, making your breasts bounce and the air rush out of your lungs.

“Dean!” you scream as you come undone around him, the rush to your head making white explode in your vision. Your back arches off the bed despite Dean burying himself inside of you, his hot come spilling inside of you as he holds you in place.

You tremble, wiggling yourself against him, drawing out your orgasm as you feel his cock pulsing inside of you, throbbing and spurting. You grab his forearm as you pant, aftershocks still coursing through you, making your pussy tighten around him.

His chest heaves as he pulls out slowly, still hard as hell, and you whine at the loss. He stops when only the head is left in you, watching as he falls out.

Your automatic response is to close your legs, but he keeps you spread as his come leaks out, grasping his cock, using the tip to push it back into you.

“G-god,” you groan, jumping in place when he brushes against your sensitive clit.

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he lets your legs fall, leaving you limp on the mattress, breathing heavily as his hand spreads over your stomach, his other still on his cock, “This is all cause of you sweetheart.”

You can’t say anything, just whine in response, and even though you are still buzzing, over sensitive, you want more.

Dean grips your hips, flipping you over and your hands tangle in the sheets, “Please.”

“Fuck sweetheart,” he pushes your legs apart, positioning himself over you.

Dean sinks down, sliding in you, moaning as he rest his weight on you, his front pressed to your back. You can feel his stomach muscles clench as he bottoms out, his breath hot against your neck, “I love you so fucking much.”

You can’t form words, can’t respond with more than a whimper. God he’s throbbing in you and you’re clenching around his cock, every little movement, even just the slight push and pull from him breathing sets your body on fire.

His hand snakes between you and the bed, fingertips brushing against your clit.

“Oh g-god D-,” you gasp, clawing at the sheets, the pressure in your body high, just on the right side of painful.

His thrust are shallow, slow and even, fingers circling your clit. His lips brush over your skin gently, his voice low in your ear, affirmation after affirmation, “You’re so beautiful…you’re perfect…I can’t wait until you’re all full with our baby…I love you.”

His fingers leave your clit, his hands finding yours, lacing as you clench around him, teetering on the edge as his thrusts become more and more erratic, quick thrust.

“One more time for me sweetheart,” he squeezes your fingers, his cock dragging over your g-spot.

Your orgasm catches you by surprise, coursing through you suddenly and you aren’t ready. Your entire body convulses underneath him and you can’t breath, the air getting caught in your throat.  You don’t know how you don’t break his fingers, you hold onto them so tightly.

“F-fuck Y/N,” he grunts, his cock jumping as your pussy flutters, pulling him to his own end. He collapses on top of you as his cock throbs, spilling deep within you as he pushes himself forward, burying himself in your pussy.

His entire body tenses and relaxes over and over as his cock continues to pulse. Every muscle in your body is tense, refusing to come down from its high.

And finally you are able to breathe again, pull in one shaky breath after another. Dean is still trembling as he kisses your shoulder, rolling to his side, pulling you with him, refusing to let you go as his cock slowly softens within you, his come dripping all over your inner thighs and his balls.

Eventually, Dean slides out of you and you roll in his arms, laying on your back and Dean half covers you, pressing a kiss to you neck before settling against you.

You run your fingers up and down his arm, making random patterns as you think, “Why didn’t you ever tell me you wanted this?”

He presses another kiss to your skin as his arm tightens around your waist, “I thought you didn’t, if you would have said no…” he trails off, struggling.

“It would have been real then,” you finish, lacing your fingers with his, squeezing reassuringly. It’s a small part of the reason you’d never really had the talk with him either. That and one more thing.

“Yeah that.” He kisses a different spot this time and his warm breath fans over your skin.

You swallow hard, now that the moment is over doubt is creeping in, your brain on overdrive, “Aren’t you scared, how is this even going to work with us being hunters?”

He chuckles, “I’m scared to death, but we will figure it out, we always do.”

You sigh, “I know we do, but-.”

“But what sweetheart?”

“Dean I love you more than anything, but this is going to change us. We’ve both lost so damn much. I don’t remember what it is like to live normal, to be normal and-”

“Who said we have to be normal?” He rests his head against yours.

You swallow, trying to work up the courage to tell him the point you’ve been dancing around, “Dean, if I have this I can’t lose it, I can’t lose my family again.”

“I know,” he pulls you tight against him, leaving no space between the two of you, not that there was much before, “I won’t let that ever happen.”

And you can hear the certainty there, the promise. He won’t, come anything, and you’d like to see anyone try to go through Dean Winchester when it comes to his family.

You bring his hand up to your lips, kissing his knuckles, “I love you so much.”

“I love you sweetheart, no matter what happens with this. You’re my wife, and we can do this however you want.”

You smile, “Well if it involves more sex like that you know I’m down.”

He laughs, “That’s not what I meant, but I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I know,” you close your eyes, letting yourself get lost in his warmth.


	22. Food Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Dean are having a little more trouble than you thought you would with trying to get pregnant, and slowly, it is getting to you

**January 2014:  
**

Dean’s arms are wrapped around your waist and you are tangled with him. You try to wiggle out, but he grumbles something, pulling you tighter against him.

“Dean, I’m hungry,” you mumble, ready to get out of bed and find some food.

“You’re always hungry,” his voice is heavy with sleep.

You sigh, pressing your forehead against his, “C’mon.”

“Fifteen more minutes,” he presses his lips to yours.

“Fifteen more minutes for you is an hour. And you can sleep.”

He yawns, “Not without you…And what are you going to eat anyways? You can’t cook.”

“Cereal,” you mutter, biting the tip of his nose playfully and he smiles, eyes finally opening.

“Forty minutes and I’ll cook,” his eyes close again.

“Ten,” you try.  

“Thirty and you make coffee.”

“Fine,” you sigh, cuddling back against him, letting his warmth overtake you.

“I’m going back to sleep,” he grumbles, adjusting your body against his.

“I think you’re body disagrees with you Dean,” you mumble in his ear, feeling his hard cock against your inner thigh.

He chuckles low, “Try waking up next to you and see what happens.”

You hook your leg over his hip, your bare pussy brushing over his cock. Dean groans, his eyes fluttering as you kiss him gently. He adjusts his hips, the tip pressing against your entrance, slowly sinking into you.

You can’t help the moan as he goes deeper, bottoming out. And even though he doesn’t move it feels so good having him inside, your bodies wrapped together. He presses his lips against yours, “You’re just making staying in bed more tempting sweetheart.”

He yawns, nuzzling against your neck. You trace the lines on his face, letting the warmth of his body and the full feeling from him being buried inside wash over you, “I guess thirty more minutes isn’t a bad idea.”

He chuckles, “I think it might be forty now.”

“Whatever Winchester.” You close your eyes, letting yourself fall back to sleep.

It feels like you haven’t been asleep for very long and you jerk awake, glancing around. Dean laughs, sitting on the bed beside you,  “Thirty minutes my ass.”

You rub your eyes, “What?”

“It’s almost ten.”

Shit, you’d fallen asleep for another three hours. You reach over and squeeze his hand, “Where are you going?”

He leans over and kisses your forehead, “I was going to go make you some breakfast.”

You smile, “You’re a good husband, you know that?”

He chuckles, “More like I don’t want food poisoning.”

You smack him with the pillow and he laughs harder, pulling it away from you, “Waffles and bacon?”

“Please,” you sit up, stretching, yawning again.

“Okay,” he wraps his arm around you, pulling you against him for one more kiss before he gets up, grabbing his robe and heading down the hall.

You get out of bed, making it before slipping your robe on, following the smell of bacon to the kitchen. He hears you coming, “I already started the coffee, you’re too damn slow.”

You wrap your arms around him from behind, “I’m sure there is some way I could make that up to you.”

He chuckles low, smiling, “I will take you up on that later…Now stop distracting me and let me cook.”

“Fine,” you squeeze him one last time before grabbing a cup of coffee and hopping up on the counter where you can watch but you’re out of the bacon grease spray range.

He glances over at you and smiles, his hair is still sticking everywhere and there are still faint red imprints on his cheek from the pillows.

You smile back, sipping your coffee. It’s just been you and Dean for a couple weeks, Sam had decided to take a ‘vacation’, but you and Dean both know he is seeing someone he’s not telling you about. Dean had broken into his phone when he left it unattended on the table.

“Alright, I think it’s all done.” He pulls the waffles from where they were staying warm in the oven. You jump down and put all the bacon on a plate, setting it right by where you were sitting before hopping back up.

Dean comes over with the waffles, already cut up and piled high with strawberries and whip cream, standing between your knees and handing you a fork.

“Thank you,” you say and he leans down to kiss you, the plate resting on your bare thighs.

“You’re welcome sweetheart.”

You both eat off the plate, grabbing bacon intermittently, chewing in comfortable silence, stealing kisses every once in awhile.

You take your finger, scraping some whip cream from the side, booping him on the nose with it when he’s not looking. He tries to bitchface you but you’re laughing too hard he can’t keep a straight face.

He sets the plate to the side, grabbing underneath your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the counter, “Remember you started this.”

“Wh-…” But he presses his nose against your neck, smearing the whip cream all over, “Dean!”

He chuckles, lifting his head so he’s nose to nose with you, that shit eating grin on his face, “What?”

“Now I’m going to need a shower.”

“Or we could get messier?” he cocks an eyebrow, that mischievous glint in his eyes. He takes a step back and you follow his movements to the fridge where he pulls out the can of whip cream.

You can’t help but giggle, shaking your head at the boyish excitement, “Here or in the room?”

“It’s just us sweetheart and we have yet to break this kitchen in right,” he smiles, crossing

the room and standing back between your knees, his fingers tugging at the tied belt of your robe.

You place your hands on either side of his face, pulling him closer to kiss you. He groans low as you wrap your legs around him, pulling yourself flush with him as he deepens it, your tongues sliding against one another and you forget how to think let alone breathe.

“Y/N,” he mumbles, pulling away, a smile playing at his lips as he pants.

You slowly undo the knot on your belt, peeling the robe back as he shakes the can, watching you with those intent olive eyes. You let it fall from your shoulder, your nipples hardening at the cold air as it bunches on the counter behind you.

“Fuck sweetheart,” he growls, his hand on your bare thigh as he steals a kiss, his fingertips tracing your bare skin, “C'mere.”

You gasp as he lifts you off the counter, automatically locking your arms and legs around him, as he nips at your skin, walking over to the table. He sets you down on the cool surface, and you shiver from that and the loss of contact with him.

He strips out of his robe, his cock half hard and bouncing as he tosses it on the back of a nearby chair, watching you with needy eyes.  
  


He presses the tip of the can, holding it to your skin, letting the foamy cream hiss out across your collarbone. Dean makes lines over your body, down between your breasts, over your stomach and your hip bones, down the tops of your thighs. By the time he’s done the first lines are starting to slide on your skin.

Dean holds onto your knees, resting his forehead against yours for a moment, “Fuck you’re beautiful.”

“Shut-up,” you giggle, pecking his lips as you smile. He eskimo kisses you before pulling back, his lips moving down to the melting cream. His tongue runs over your skin, making you warm in all the right places, making you needy and desperate.

His hands never leave your knees, only touching your twitching skin with his mouth, alternating between licking, sucking and nipping, changing it up to keep you on edge just as you get used to one. Dean cleans every bit up across your chest, going slow, leaving dark marks on the inside of your breasts where only you and him can see.

You hold over his hands, squeezing as he covers your hard nipple with his mouth, rolling the bud with his tongue, your back arching into him. He groans against your skin, his teeth tugging until you moan his name, your legs shaking and your pussy throbbing.

Your fingers tangle in his hair as he drops down to his knees, licking the strip of white up your left thigh before looking up at you under his lashes. You take in a shaky breath, you mouth open as he smirks, his warm breath fanning over your pussy as he places a small kiss on your mound before moving to your right leg.

“Dean, fuck, please,” you plead impatiently, god you just want him.

He chuckles, moving slower, holding you in place as he nips the top of your thigh, working his way to the inside, “Let me eat my breakfast sweetheart.”

Fuck, when he says stuff like that, it should be cheesy, it should make you sigh and roll your eyes, but no, it makes you want him more, makes you into putty under his fingers and tongue.

He ducks, hooking your knees over his broad shoulders and pulling you to the very edge of the table, nuzzling your inner thigh as he opens you for him. He kisses the soft skin, working his way closer to where you need him most.

“Dean,” you tug at his hair and he growls low, his nose just barely brushing over your folds, teasing.

“Fuck sweetheart, this is better than anything else,” and before you can respond, his mouth covers your pussy, his tongue moving slowly, savoring every bit no matter how much your squirm against him.

And the sloppy noises, the little groans he makes as his lips move against you are almost comparable to how it feels. How amazing it feels as his tongue circles your clit, how it feels when he sucks it gently between those damn lips and toys at it with his tongue, letting his teeth scrape against it until your legs tighten around his ears so hard it should be hurting him.

Dean drives you higher, the sweat breaking out across your skin, mixing with the sticky remnants of the whipped cream. You rock against his mouth, unable to gain any leverage with how he holds you tight to his mouth, his tongue dipping into your entrance, his tongue fucking you at the pace he wants. The pace that makes you whimper and cry out for him, your voice echoing off the stone of the bunker.

Your heels dig into his back as you curl over, wrapping yourself around him as he pushes you over the edge, your pussy clenching around his tongue, “Dean, fuck, Dean.”

He holds you still as he can, your whole body trembling as your vision goes white, the warmth spreading through you as you choke out his name again and again, the orgasm overtaking you.

“Fuck, I love it when you come like that sweetheart,” he groans, standing suddenly, his lips crashing against yours as the aftershocks roll through you. You can taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, salty with just a hint of sweet as he pushes you down on the table, caging you in with his giant frame.

You giggle against his lips, teasing, “Don’t I get a turn?”

“Later, I promise,” he mumbles between kisses, “just want you.”

When he sounds lost like that, like he’s in some sort of trance, you don’t have it in you to argue, you just want to feel him inside of you.

His fingers ghost over your face, his olive eyes tracing every inch of you, and the love there, the adoration makes your heart hurt.

Your legs wrap around his waist and Dean’s eyes snap to yours as you reach between your bodies, taking his thick, hard cock between your fingers, stroking him slowly. He bites his bottom lip, his breath hissing between his teeth as your thumb runs over the head, smearing the precum.

“Y/N,” he breathes, his forehead coming to rest against yours as you press the tip to your entrance. He rolls his hips forward, burying himself inside you, inch by inch.

Your back arches off the wood as he bottoms out, your eyes falling shut as he kisses your exposed neck, “Dean.”

His hands find yours, pulling them up, his fingers lacing with yours, pinning them above your head as he holds his hips still, his hard cock filling you up, stretching you in the most perfect way.

Your legs tighten around him, heels digging into his ass. He takes in a deep breath, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into you, the table creaking. You whimper, your fingers tightening in his, holding on as he grunts and repeats the motion again and again.

You both swear, stealing kisses as his hot breath fans over your face. You moan against his mouth, repeating his name over and over, begging him for more until the table is screeching against the tile floor, moving slightly with every thrust.

His cock fits so well, touching every part of you and the angle of his hips drives him against that spot that makes you insane, makes every single cell in your body feel like it’s burning up. Except with you and Dean it’s a fire that never, ever ends, it won’t burn out.

He grunts, pressing his face against your neck as his thrusts quicken. Your stomach tightens, your pussy clenching around his cock in time with your fingers squeezing his. He throbs inside you, “Y/N, fuck, sweetheart.”

“Please Dean,” you whine, “I’m right there with you.”

He bucks hard, burying himself as deep as he can inside you, and that connection, his cock jumping inside you, spilling, the sounds he makes as he comes undone, makes you fall apart around him.

Your hips roll on their own against his erratic little rhythm as your orgasm consumes you.

“D-dean,” you yell, holding onto him as your vision goes white and your mind goes blank, the pressure inside you overwhelming, becoming more so with each wave.

Your fingers relax and he pulls one hand away, it coming to cup your cheek as he kisses you deeply, everything that he feels for you, all that love, right there in the way his lips move against yours.

He pulls out gently, you wincing at the loss, but Dean pulls you up so your body is against his as he stands up straight, his finger hooking under your chin, “You wanna spend the day in our room naked?”

You chuckle, “You just want to get me knocked up, don’t you?”

He laughs, “So what if I do?”

“I suppose I can move around my plans,” you joke.

“Oh, you mean binge watching Netflix?” He teases.

“Binge watching Netflix with my husband,” you kiss him quickly, smiling.

“I never get tired of hearing you say that, you know?” He says, a shy smile on his freckled face.

You can’t help the emotion that rushes through you. You cup his cheek, making him look at you, “Well I love you Dean Winchester.”

He beams, blushing a little, turning so he can press a kiss to your palm, “I love you too Y/N.”

**February 2014:**

You grab the box of tampons off the shelf at the convenience store. Yeah, you hadn’t thought you would get pregnant on the first shot, but after almost three months of trying, you were getting a little disappointed.

And you can’t help it, the self doubt that creeps in. The thoughts that maybe there is something wrong with you. And it crushes you because you know how much Dean wants this, how last month when you weren’t pregnant the little bit of disappointment that had crossed his face before he made a joke about you two would just keep on practicing.

**April 2014:**

“Fuck,” you hiss, wanting to throw the pregnancy test against the wall. You must just be late, but it was enough that it had gotten your hopes up.

Dean’s going to be so disappointed, hell, you’re disappointed. There has got to be something wrong with you and you can’t help it as the tears slide down your cheeks, “Dammit.”

You toss the stick in the trash, turning on the faucet and trying to wash your face off before you leave the bathroom. You’re eyes are still red, but it will have to do, you can’t hide in here forever. You’re just going to walk out of here, go to your bedroom and watch some Netflix, settle down. Easy peasy.

Yeah, not so much.

As soon as you start walking down the hallway Dean comes out of your room, “Hey sweetheart,. I was wondering wh-,” his face falls as he takes in yours, “Y/N?”

You can’t say anything, just start crying uncontrollably, rushing forward and into his arms. He doesn’t say a word, just pulls you against him, his strong arms wrapping around you, holding you as close as he can, “It’s okay sweetheart, it’s okay.”

“No i-it’s not,” you choke out, your arms tightening around his waist, hands fisting in the back of his shirt, “there’s something wrong with me.”

“Y/N,” he takes a step back, cradling your face in his hands, making you look at him, “there is nothing wrong with you, you understand?”

You shake your head, crying harder, “Dean, what if I can’t-.”

“How do you know it’s you?”

“Wha-”

He forces a pained smile, “It could be me.”

“Dean, no,” you shake your head, it’s so obvious to you, it can’t be, it’s gotta be you.

“Yeah, I could be shooting blanks,” he brushes your hair back, the tear threatening in the corner of his eye, “we don’t know.”

You take in a deep breath, looking into his deep olive eyes. He’s scared too, he wants this so much, you do too, and it’s just not happening.

He leans down, his lips brushing over yours, kissing you tenderly, “How about we go watch some Netflix and make out like horny teenagers, huh?”

He’s such a damn dork, and you love him. It doesn’t matter how shitty you feel, he knows how to crack you, how to get you through it. And normally that would, but it’s not right now because you can see how he’s trying to hide how much he’s hurting too.

“Dean,” you swallow hard.

“I’m fine sweetheart,” he forces a reassuring smile.

You don’t have to say anything and he grabs your hand, leading you to your room, shutting the door, sitting you both on the edge of the bed.

He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, “I know I sound crazy but I know it’s not you baby,” he shakes his head, “there’s something wrong with me.”

You lean forward, sliding your hand into his, fingers lacing, “There’s nothing wrong with you Dean.”

“Process of elimination sweetheart,” he leans over, resting his forehead against yours, “because you’re fucking perfect, it can’t be you.”

You swallow hard, “I’m not perfect.”

“Well you are for me, so…I’m telling you Y/N, think of how many times I’ve died and been brought back, how many times I’ve been hurt, there’s a fucking hell of a good chance-”

You cut him off, pressing your lips against his in a desperate kiss, your heart pounding in your chest, “I feel like I’m letting you down.”

His face falls in disbelief, “What?”

“I-I know how bad you want this and I just feel like, if I can’t-”

He cups your chin, making you look at him, “If it never happens, it’s not in the cards, okay? You could never let me down, I love you too damn much. If it’s you and me forever, I’m happy.”

You relax against him and his arms wrap around you, pulling you down on the bed so that you’re curled up next to him.

**June 2014:**

You’re fucking exhausted and you can barely move, “I’ve never been happier to see our bed.”

Dean chuckles behind you, his hands resting on your hips as he places a kiss to the top of your head, “I know what you mean, that was a rough couple of hunts.”

“I think that’s an understatement,” you mumble, stripping out of your clothes, grabbing a t-shirt and falling onto the bed. Dean’s only a few seconds behind you. He scoots up behind you, his chest pressed to your back, molding you two together, holding you close.

“I’m ready for a light coma,” he mutters, burying his face against your neck.

“That sounds nice,” you yawn, letting your eyes close. And you can feel sleep right there, just barely out of reach and the whole damn world starts spinning out of control, you feel like you’re going to be sick.

“Fuck,” you struggle to untangle yourself, but Dean holds you tighter unconsciously, “Dean, let go of me…Fuck!”

“Wha-?” he’s sleepy and confused as you rip yourself out of his grip, rolling off the bed and falling to the floor.

You barely get the wastebasket in your hands by the time you start hurling, and it’s not the little kind either. It’s the full body, make your legs hurt kind of hurling.

“Jesus fucking Christ Y/N,” Dean’s right there, hovering, pulling your hair away from your face and you don’t have the strength to push him away or protest. Hell, you’re not actually throwing anything up anymore, just dry heaving.

You can’t stop shaking, even when it subsides and Dean sits back against the bed on the floor, pulling you onto his lap, “Are you okay?”

You nod, the nausea slowly going down, “It must have been something from that damn diner.”

“Sweetheart, we ate the same exact thing,” He touches your face, then your forehead, “you must be getting sick.”

“God, I hope not, not on my days off,” you pout, leaning back against him. Go figure, just your luck.                                            

You push yourself off the ground, heading to the sink to brush your teeth. Dean disappears with the basket, coming back as you are crawling back under the covers. He’s worried, you can tell by the way he carefully wraps his arms around you, “I’m fine, I promise.”

“Just wake me up if it happens again sweetheart.”

You nod sleepily, “ ‘kay.”

___

You wake up slowly, Deans fingers rubbing up and down your side. You still don’t feel great, but it’s nothing close to last night, “Morning.”

He nuzzles against your neck, pressing a kiss to your skin, ”Morning sweetheart. How you feelin’?”

You twist in his arms and roll to face him, your noses brushing, “I feel better than I did.”

He nods, his forehead scrunching, hesitant to tell you whatever is going through his head, “I was thinking-”

“Uh-o,” you tease.

“Smartass…” he swallows, “I was thinking about how you’ve been so tired and then last night, um, when was the last time you checked?”

Your forehead scrunches for a second, confused, “What?”

“Have you had your period?”

You think about it, trying to remember the last time, but you really can’t. It’s been such a blur of hunting, “I don’t know, but Dean, we’ve been trying for over six months, and now all of a sudden?”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, “ we’ve seen crazier shit.”

You want so bad to let yourself believe him, but you can’t. In the last six months you’ve let yourself down so many times, “Dean…”

He smiles softly, brushing your hair away from your face and kissing your forehead, “It was just a thought.”

You swallow hard, nodding, “Okay.”

He rests his forehead against yours, “I’ll go make us some breakfast.”

“Bacon and waffles?”

He chuckles, “Of course.”

Dean kisses you one more time before getting up, slipping on his old man robe and heading down the hallway. You’re lay there for a moment, trying to remain neutral and emotionless, you’ve been let down too many times now.

But fuck, what he said, it’s sticking there in your mind like an annoying little bug that won’t go away. You don’t know what the hell to do, if it’s negative, you’re going to spend a week depressed out of your mind, Dean will be trying to cheer you up even though he is going through the same damn thing.

But what if it’s not?

You have a couple of tests still stashed in the cupboard by the bathroom, but fuck, you don’t even want to think about this. But you keep thinking, how tired you’ve been, how you threw up last night even though you’ve never been a puker, even the one time you had food poisoning.

What if Dean’s right?

“Dammit,” you push yourself up, slipping on a pair of pj shorts with Dean’s t-shirt. You keep shaking your head, telling yourself to stop being crazy as you pull out the box, heading into the bathroom.

You can’t pee, not right away, it’s too much pressure, you’re too fucking agitated, “C’mon, c’mon…”

And finally you do, and everything feels like it’s moving too slow. When you’re done you set it on the sink, washing your hands and then pacing back and forth quickly.You run your fingers through your messy hair, the pressure in your head building because you are panicking.

You glance at the clock, two more minutes. Fuck, that’s forever. You grab the stick, heading for the kitchen, you can’t do this, not without Dean.

“Dean,” you whisper, trying to control your emotions, standing in the doorway and he spins, the smile on his face falling away.

He drops everything, meeting you halfway across the tile floor, “Sweetheart?”

“I can’t do this, I can’t-…”

“It’s negative?” His brow furrows.

“I don’t know,” you are barely in control, “I-I-I…”

He takes it out of your hand, wrapping his free arm around you and pulling you to his chest, “It’s going to be okay sweetheart.”

You bury your face in his chest, you don’t know why you are getting like this, why you are so scared. But Dean doesn’t move, just holds you together, his arms tight around your shoulders.

“Holy fuck,” Dean breathes, his entire body going stiff, “Y/N.”

You’re confused by his sudden change, taking a half step back, looking up at his green eyes that are wide as his lips move, words not coming out.

“Dean?”

His eyes lock on yours, “Y/N.”

“What?”

He swallows, holding up the stick and you see the plus. Dean’s breathing is heavy and your hands cover your face as your head shakes back and forth, total disbelief.

“You’re pregnant.” He sinks down to his knees, his hands on the back of your thighs as he rests his forehead against your stomach, all the tension leaving his body.

You’re in total disbelief, your fingers shaking, tangling in his short hairs as he presses a kiss to your stomach, repeating, “You’re pregnant.”


	23. Nipple Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Dean struggle with some new parts of your early pregnancy.

July 2014:

 

The phone buzzes on the nightstand, cutting through the quiet and making you jump, losing the page you’d been on in the book you were reading. You toss the book to the side and pick it up, Dean’s name on the ID, “Hey.”

“Hey sweetheart, how ya feelin’?” God, it’s so good to hear his voice, even if you’d just talked to him last night. You are so used to him here with you, even when you two sit for hours in comfortable silence, researching or watching movies, there is something about his presence that keeps you whole.

“Well, I’ve gone six hours without puking up my guts, so better I guess. It’s probably a good thing I didn’t go with you guys.” You’d sat this hunt out. Saturday, when Sam said he had found a hunt in Utah, you couldn’t go three or four hours without running to the nearest toilet, throwing up anything in your stomach. You and Dean still haven’t told him, not until after your appointment in the morning.

“Okay…We are at a gas station about eight hours out. So I’ll be back in time to catch a couple hours and take you in the morning.”

“Don’t push yourself Dean.”

“I got a coffee so I’m good to go,” he pauses for a moment and you can hear the pump click in the background, “I’ve missed you so much sweetheart.”

“Yeah, I’m so used to you being around. It’s really weird being here alone… and I don’t know about this whole being benched thing. It’s pretty damn boring,” you sigh, picking at the corner of a pillow.

He swallows hard, “I know, but I think Sam might have picked up on it not just being food poisoning.”

“You’re probably right…I’m actually a little surprised you haven’t spilled the beans,” you tease. Dean’s been so damn excited. He hasn’t been able to keep his hands off you, more than the usual, and he’s almost slipped up a couple of times in front of Sam just Friday and Saturday before the hunt.

“Shut-up,” he growls playfully, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes,” you laugh, “I’ve literally been doing nothing except laying around, looking through the news and eating. Stop worrying.”

“I can’t do that.”

“I know, and I love you for it.”

“I can’t wait to see you.”

You smile, “I should be up.”

“Nah, just get some rest and I’ll be there when you get up….Alrighty, Sammy’s checking out so we’ll hit the road. I love you Y/N.”

“Love you too Dean, drive safe.”

“Always do…Bye.”

“Bye,” you hit the end call, staring at your phone for a moment before setting it down. God, eight hours is so damn long or at least it seems like it. You’ve been climbing the walls even though you know that staying here had been the best decision. Dean and Sam didn’t need a sick hunter slowing them down on a vamp hunt.

It also doesn’t help you face the inevitable decision you need to make, you can’t hunt right now, you won’t risk it, not after everything you and Dean have been through. But months of this, months of empty halls and phone calls is depressing as hell.

But for now, small steps, you just need to make it through the doctor’s appointment in the morning, you just need to know that everything is alright, a concrete answer that this is actually happening because it still doesn’t feel real, it feels like you are watching it happen to someone else.

Eight more hours, you can do this. You flip on the TV, putting on a western that you know Dean likes, for some reason watching stuff he likes calms you down. Eventually, you doze off.

____

Your eyes flutter open, your mind foggy with sleep as you hear movement in the dark room, “Dean?”

The bed dips and his fingers run over your face, “Hey sweetheart, just gimme a minute and I’ll be right back.”

“ ‘kay,” you mumble, curling up and pulling the covers tighter, half asleep.

The next thing you know, he’s crawling under the blankets, pulling you against his big frame, his lips pressing gently against yours, “You still awake?”

“Mhmm, kinda,” you wrap yourself around him, tangling your legs as he chuckles softly.

His hand roams over your body, coming to rest on your stomach, staying there, his fingers spreading, and you can’t help but smile, “We’re fine.”

He kisses you gently, “Go back to sleep sweetheart.”

You snuggle against him, warming up, “I think I can do that.”

He chuckles, the vibrations rumbling through you as he presses a kiss to your forehead, “I’m happy to be home.”

____

You shake your legs impatiently, crossing them the other way, fidgeting in your seat. Dean’s hand slides up and down your thigh as he leans over, “Calm down there twitchy.”

You force a half smile, linking your fingers with his, letting him ground you, “Sorry.”

“Everything is going to be fine sweetheart,” he kisses your cheek, not caring that there are ten other people in the waiting room. You hope everything is fine, after all this, you need it to be.

“Y/N?” the nurse looks around, finding you as you squeeze Dean’s hand and stand up, following her through the hall, Dean’s hand never leaving the small of your back. It’s probably a good thing, otherwise you might bolt.

It’s a blur as she asks you questions, goes through normal check-up stuff. You can barely focus, the white coat syndrome driving you nuts, hell, Dean has to answer a few things for you you are so wound up.

“Alright, that’s it for me, the doctor should be in pretty soon,” she gives you a reassuring smile as she leaves you sitting on the table.

Dean’s on one of those spinny stools and he sits as close as he possibly can to you, lacing his fingers with yours, “Telling you to calm down isn’t gonna work, huh?”

You shake your head, clenching your jaw, nervous, “I just can’t stop thinking about everything that could be wrong. Plus, you know how I feel about docs.”

He chuckles, “I know sweetheart, I’m right here.”

You lean over and give him a quick kiss, “I know, you always are.”

The doctor knocks and comes in. She’s a shorter woman, petite with a big smile, “Hi Y/N, I’m Dr. Bell, how are we doing today?”

You force a smile, “Good… nervous,” you glance shyly at Dean who squeezes your hand.

Dr. Bell grabs a few things, sitting on her stool and scooting closer, “Well, why don’t we have a look here so maybe we can make that go away?”

She’s a very warm person and it’s hard to not feel comfortable as you lay back and slip your shirt up. What you’re extremely thankful for is even though you can see her reaction when she sees all the scars, the cuts and bullet holes, she doesn’t ask, just continues prepping, chatting with you and Dean.

“Sorry, this is going to be cold, nothing I can do about that,” she laughs lightly and even though she warns you, you jump a little when she puts the glob of gel on your stomach. Dean chuckles and you shoot him a look, but he’s so damn happy you can’t even be a little annoyed with him.

She spreads the gel over your skin with the plastic,watching the screen carefully, “Hmm, let’s see….Ah, here we are,” she nods at the screen and you look carefully, seeing the silhouette that she points out against the patterned movements of your body.

She moves the plastic a little so she can see a different angle, changing your view slightly, “I’d say you are between nine and ten weeks, baby looks healthy and everything looks normal.”

You can’t pull your eyes away from the small twitches, from the little person that is so clearly there, even when you hear Dean beside you, “Hey doc, what’s going on there?”

He points to a fluttering spot on the screen. The doc smiles, “That would be your baby’s heartbeat.”

You hear Dean’s sharp intake of breath as he squeezes your hand, pulling your knuckles to his lips and kissing them as he holds tightly. You don’t realize there is a tear until it leaks from the corner of your eye and you hurry to wipe it away with your free hand, all of this emotion rushing through you overwhelming. And even though it is confusing and you can’t put your finger on everything that is rushing through your head, there are few things you know for sure.

The amount of love that you feel right now, for Dean, for this tiny little thing on the screen, you never thought was possible. And you thought you had loved before, but it wasn’t like this, you can feel it in your bones. Dean and you did this, Dean is your husband and the father of your child. You can’t help the protective instinct, the thought that even though your baby isn’t against the world yet, there isn’t a damn thing you wouldn’t do for it, there isn’t a thing you wouldn’t do for your little family.

You look over at Dean, his face, his lips parted slightly as he glances from the screen to you, letting out the breath he has been holding. He smiles, letting out a choked laugh, leaning forward to kiss your cheek before resting his forehead against your shoulder, whispering, “That’s ours…That’s our baby.”

_______

You and Dean sit across from each other in the kitchen, Dean holding the sonogram picture gingerly in his large fingers. He can barely take his eyes off of it.

You reach across the table, touching his forearm, “How are we going to tell Sam?”

Dean shrugs, his brow furrowing, “I haven’t got a clue.”

“What’s wrong Dean?” You can’t help but feel the shifted mood, you’re calmer and something’s up with him. You know he’s tired, he could have only gotten an hour or two of sleep last night, but there is more than that.

He shakes his head, setting the picture down, “It’s nothin’.”

You rub his arm, “It’s something.”

He swallows, forcing a half smile as he meets your eyes, “What if I’m a shitty dad? I have no idea what to do, what if she gets hurt? What if you do?”

You chuckle, “She?”

“Yeah,” he smiles soft, almost shy, “she.”

“Do you know something me and the doc don’t?” you tease.

“I feel it,” he smiles down at the picture, “I know it’s bat shit crazy, but I know it’s a girl.”

You get up, going around to the otherside of the table where he’s sitting. Dean’s arm snags around you, pulling you onto his lap. You rest your head against his as you sit on his thigh, his hand spread across your stomach as he watches with that small smile playing at his lips. You could sit here like this forever, watching him, this happiness washing over you, this contentment.

You’re so caught up in him that when Sam clears his throat, you both jump in place, your heart thumping in your chest, you’d never heard the Bunker door, “Jesus Sam. How long have you been there?”

“Long enough,” he chuckles, not moving from where he is leaning against the doorway. He looks between you and Dean, slowly smiling, “Something you wanna tell me?”

You slide off Dean’s leg, picking up the picture and taking it to Sam, handing it to him, “You’re gonna be an uncle.”

He takes it from you, that lopsided grin plastered on his face, “When did you find out?”

“I took the test last week,” you respond hesitantly, waiting for his reaction and Dean slides up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on the top of your head.

Sam looks at his big brother, having a silent conversation that even after all the time you’ve spent with them, you can’t always decipher. Sam glances down at you and smiles wide, “That kid is going to be all kinds of trouble.”

“I know,” you smirk, “it is Dean’s kid after all.”

“Hey,” he growls low, kissing the top of your head as he squeezes you, yawning.

You crane your neck, looking back at him, “You finally ready to sleep?”

Sam laughs, winking, “Well you won’t have any trouble with a kid, you deal with Dean all the time.”

Dean grunts, “You two are just fucking hilarious, you know that?”

“Aww,” Sam teases, “he’s grumpy.”

Dean flips his brother off, slipping his fingers through yours, tugging you towards the hall. Sam laughs as you two disappear, Dean grumbling the whole way.

You chuckle as you open the door, “He’s your brother, what do you expect?”

Dean shrugs, “But you’re my wife, I thought you weren’t supposed to do that.”

“You married the wrong damn woman,” you wink, standing on tiptoes to kiss him quickly. He laughs low, kissing you back before letting go and stripping out of most of his clothes, flopping on the bed.

You crawl on the bed next to him, grabbing the book you had been reading last night, you’re too wired to sleep right now. And just as you start to find the spot where you were, you feel Dean’s arm wrap around your waist, his body move against you and he presses a kiss to your stomach, “You’re gonna be something else Peanut.”

You can’t help but smile as he rests his head there, closing his eyes. You run your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly, feeling your heart swell in your chest.

_____

August 2014

It’s after midnight and you haven’t heard from either of the boys. Dean was supposed to call you over an hour ago when they finished up with this damn shapeshifter.

You pace the motel room, you haven’t hunted in a little over two months, but that gun sitting on the nightstand is starting to look tempting. But you can’t.

You touch your stomach, running your hand over the small bump, the one that’s just starting to be obvious if you don’t wear a hoodie. This is the only thing that is keeping you here right now. And you repeat it to yourself over and over, your baby needs you to think smart, to stay safe.

But Dean is the thought that keeps running through your head.

You start crying, for the first time in your entire life feeling helpless and trapped because you don’t know what to do. What are you supposed to do?

The answer should be obvious, right? But it isn’t, and that’s the fucking problem. You can’t do this without him, you just can’t.

Just as you head towards the nightstand you hear the rumble of the Impala. You rush towards the door, throwing it open just as the car gets parked. You race to it, Dean getting out of the driver’s side and you can’t control the tears anymore.

He wraps his arms around you as you get to him. He rests his forehead against yours, his hands on either side of your face, brushing your hair back, “I’m sorry.”

You swallow hard, taking half a step back. He looks like hell, a gash across his cheek, his shirt torn and you feel your stomach drop. You’ve seen Dean hurt before, but now, now it’s got bigger consequences and you can feel your heart clenching and you can’t find the words. You want to scream at him, be mad, but you can’t, you’re just relieved he’s standing here with you.

“Hey, hey, I’m alright,” he says low, pulling you against his chest in a tight hug, kissing the top of your head, “I’m alright.”

“Goddammit Dean,” you breathe, unable to say anything else.

“I tried, my phone got trashed. Sam’s fell in the damn water.”

“I know,” you wipe your face, trying to control yourself. It’s so easy when you are there backing him up, you’ve seen him with worse injuries, but not being there, not knowing if he is coming back is heart wrenching and terrifying.

He wraps his arm around your shoulder, leading you towards the room. Sam follows you two, closing and locking the door. You and Dean sit down at the table, Dean’s hand squeezing yours as you stare at it, unable to find the right words.

“Dean,” Sam breaks the silence, “maybe you should stay with Y/N for awhile.”

Dean swallows hard, but it’s you that answers, “You don’t need to be going without backup Sam-”

“I can hunt with Eileen for awhile, you and Dean have worked too hard for this not to get it.”

Dean half smiles, his fingers lacing with yours but he still doesn’t say a word. You force an understanding smile. You know Dean, you know as much as he loves you hunting is an addiction, it’s a lifestyle you can’t stop. Hell, you’re itching to get your hands dirty, “He can’t.”

Dean takes a big breath, “I can, for this I can. If we start getting cabin fever we can pick up an easy salt and burn just so we don’t get rusty.”

Your heart begins to hope, “Are you sure?”

Dean nods, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles, “Positive.”

____

September 2014

“Goddammit sweetheart,” Dean hisses as he comes into the room, rubbing his bare arms, his hair still damp from the shower, “could you keep it any colder in here?”

You smile, looking away from your laptop and over to your husband, the towel slung loosely around his hips, “I’m dying over here, it’s hotter than hell.”

“I think being pregnant is going to your head, it’s so cold my nipples could cut diamond.”

You chuckle, closing the laptop and facing him, “You’re always nipping.”

Dean walks to the bed, standing between your knees and leaning down to kiss you, pushing you back to the mattress as his towel falls away, “Don’t be making fun of my perky nipples.”

You laugh as your back hits the bed, Dean biting the sensitive skin of your neck, “I would never.”

“Uh-huh,” he smiles, shifting his weight overtop of you so he’s against you but not pressing against your growing belly. It’s just getting to the point where it’s obvious and in the way sometimes.

Dean’s lips travel up and down your neck, making you moan underneath him, pulling him closer as his fingers trace over your skin.

Your hands run up his bare stomach, pressing into the skin as you move to his chest, your thumb rubbing over his nipple, Dean groaning low against you in response. The rumble, the vibrations that move through him leave you aching for him.

He grabs at your shorts, desperate to shove them down your legs as you struggle with your shirts, somehow managing to wiggle enough to get it over your head while he rips your panties down your legs. And you’re on a mission now, those noises he’s making, you want more of them.

You push at his shoulder, It takes him a moment, finally getting the message, rolling to his back and pulling you on top of him. His hands stay on your bare hips as your lips move down his neck, your teeth grazing over his skin, making his fingers tighten and his cock jump against your ass.

“Fuck sweetheart,” he mutters, his neck straining as you tweak his nipple with your thumb. You know how much he likes this, when you tease him, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t get you all kinds of wet and needy for him.

Your lips work their way down his sternum, diverting to the side. You trace his anti-possession tattoo with your tongue, nipping at the skin near it as he twitches underneath you.

“Y/N,” he groans, drawing out your name as his eyes fall shut.

“Shh,” you breathe, nibbling at the little bud, sucking it gently. But he growls, sitting up suddenly, you sliding onto his strong thighs as he catches your lips with his, kissing you passionately.

“You’re-such-a-damn-tease,” he gasps between kisses, holding your body as close as he can, his hard cock pressed and leaking against your stomach.

You can’t help but smirk against his lips, your fingers twisting slightly at his right nipple.

“Fuck,” he hisses between his clenched teeth, flipping you suddenly to your back, pinning your hands on either side of your head, his hot breath fanning over your face.

“Dean,” you whine, your hips moving towards his, your core aching with need.

“Nuh-uh, it’s my turn,” his lips trace your jaw, nipping at your flushed skin.

His hand moves down as he rests his weight back on his knees, his thumb and index finger tugging at your hard nipple,covering the other one with his mouth, sucking, grazing his teeth, tugging before letting it go, “This is the first way I ever made you come…I thought I was going to blow my load like some horny kid, fuck I still do with you.”

“You remember that?” you whisper, cupping his chin.

He nods, this goofy grin plastered on his face, “I’m never gonna forget anything with you sweetheart.”

Fuck, you know it’s true. He knows everything about you. He knows what you like, what you don’t, he knows you more than anyone ever has or ever will. And Dean’s got a hell of a memory for the little things. He’s going to be the one who remembers it is your birthday, or when your anniversary is and not just your wedding, he’s going to remember the date of the first time he met you, the first actual date you went on. He’s going to be the one who remembers down to the minute when your baby is born and exactly the words you say. It’s just who he is when he loves someone.

“I’m gonna do it again,” he growls, this sly look on his face as his head dips down, his lips latching over your nipple, his tongue playing at it. You squirm underneath him, desperate for some kind of friction between your legs.

Dean pushes you higher, your entire body buzzing. He tugs and twists in time with his tongue and lips. The scratch of his rough scruff against your sensitive skin making your heels dig into the bed as your breaths come in short gasps mixed with pleas of his name.

He grinds himself down against you, his cock splitting the slick folds of your pussy, the head bumping your clit. You’re going insane, “Please D-dean.”

He grumbles something you can’t make out against your skin, his teeth scraping over the sensitive bud, making you call out before his lips latch onto the soft skin of your inner breast, sucking a dark mark.

Your fingers grip on his broad shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you come undone, the tag team of his mouth and his cock grinding against you pushing you over the edge. You arch against him, your neck locking back as you call out, moaning obscenely, begging him for more as your pussy clenches around nothing.

He kisses down over your swollen stomach, that small smile plastered on his face, “And then I ripped your panties off-”

You choke out a laugh as you struggle to catch your breath, “And have ruined every pair since then.”

He smiles proudly, winking at you before hooking your knees over his shoulders, opening you to him as he settles down between your thighs. Your fingers tangle in his short hair, tugging lightly until he groans low, his mouth covering your pussy, the noises he makes vibrating through you.

“Dean,” you moan, craning your neck so you can watch, but it is getting harder to do that with each passing week but you don’t care, not right now. All you can do is feel, feel the way his lips and tongue move together, alternating between small licks and sucking gently, working you up.

His teeth graze over your clit as his fingers dip into your pussy. Your legs shake, his two fingers fucking in and out of you slowly.

“Sweetheart,” he mumbles against you, groaning happily, and you will never get over this, how when you two are having sex, it’s never just sex, it never has been, it’s an experience, it’s something that the two of you share with one another. And you can’t help but remember the first time it was like this, the first time he went down on you, how nervous you were, how scared, and how much you truly believed it was just going to be that one night. Now you can’t picture your life any other way, you can’t picture your life without Dean.

You moan, your hips rolling on their own, your eyes falling shut as his tongue circles your clit, coming back and flattening against it, “Oh g-god.”

His one hand finds your free one, your fingers lacing together as his lips latch around your clit, his fingers curling into your g-spot, making your thighs shake uncontrollably, whines and whimpers and pleas falling from your mouth.

Dean builds you up slowly, taking you from one level to the next, the scratch from his scruff burning in all the right ways, that tongue teasing your clit, his thick fingers rubbing at your front wall, finding that spot that makes your hips jerk and your back arch before he retreats, giving you seconds to settle down before doing it again.

You squeeze his hand with yours at the same time your pussy flutters around his fingers, and Dean lets you squirm, lets you thrash underneath of him as he presses his face against you, moving in time with you.

He growls against your pussy as he laps at your slick, his fingers moving faster, pushing against your g-spot and you can feel the pressure building within you. Your hips twist to the side as you teeter on the edge, but Dean stays with you, never letting up, shifting his shoulders and pulling your ass off the mattress.

“F-fuck,” you hiss, your body releasing, you coming undone hard as the liquid rushes from you, all over his mouth and hand. You come hard, your body convulsing, muscles stiffening over and over as your pussy clenches around his fingers.

You thrash to your side, Dean’s fingers still working you through your orgasm as you bite the pillow, your mind going blank and your vision going dark, your entire body shaking from the intensity.

“Dean, f-fuck,” you gasp, unable to open your eyes, vaguely aware of him sliding up the bed behind you, his lips traveling over your trembling skin.

“Shh sweetheart,” he mumbles, pressing his lips to your shoulder, “I’m right here.”

Dean pulls your leg up over his, his arm wrapped around you as he pushes his cock in your quivering pussy, burying himself in you from behind. You whimper as he sets a languid pace, slowly pumping in and out as he kisses your neck over and over again, holding you close.

His hips roll and you push back to meet his movements. His cock stretching you in the most perfect way, making you feel full, setting your skin on fire, making your legs shake as you hold yourself open for him.

As his cock drags in and out his fingers find your clit, sending little jolts through your body. You moan, and as you rest your head back against him, Dean attacks your neck with his lips, sucking and nipping.

“Dean,” you whimper, feeling his cock throb and swell.

Dean growls, “Sweetheart.”

He drives you higher, your body shaking in his arms as his pace becomes erratic, he’s so close and so are you. You lose yourself with him, letting your body take control and your mind go blank.

You reach back, your fingers digging into the muscle of his ass, begging him to go harder. Dean complies, pushing further into you, his fingers moving faster against you clit.

You call out his name, choking on it as your orgasm hits you. You arch back against him, yelling his name as his cock jumps inside you, Dean grunting as he spills deep in your pussy..

Both of you pant, Dean holding you against his chest, unwilling to let you go as his hips keep jutting forward on their own, making your oversensative pussy flutter and clench in the aftermath.

Dean kisses below your ear, “You’re so beautiful when you come like that.”

You giggle, “You’re such a sap.”

“I know,” he mumbles, pulling you closer. God, he’s so warm and perfect, you could forget about what you were going to do and fall asleep in his arms.

____

You’re not sure what woke you up, but it’s still late, the clock only reads a little past three. Your fingers are still laced with Dean’s, his warm body surrounding you, holding you close. You press your lips to his fingers and his thumb rubs against your cheek, he’s awake, or at least half awake.

“Sorry if I woke you up,” he mumbles, burying his face against the back of your neck.

“You didn’t,” you yawn, settling back in against him. You guys have nowhere to be tomorrow, and you don’t have any plans other than staying right here with Dean. You’re just about asleep when you feel the pressure inside you again, not uncomfortable or painful, just a small thump.

You’re confused, racking your brain for a moment and then it happens again, the realization dawning on you and you squeeze Dean’s hand, “Dean, Dean, Dean!”

“What, what, what?” he grumbles sleepily as you drag his hand down, forcing his limp fingers flat against your belly, your hand holding his in place.

The little thump happens again.

“Jesus Christ,” he jumps a little behind you, wide awake, “Y/N, is that-did she just?”

“Yeah,” you smile softly as Dean’s hand flattens, waiting for your baby to kick again.

When it does, he presses his lips to your shoulder, laughing softly in disbelief, “I can’t believe Peanut’s actually doing that.”

His hand rubs over your stomach gently, waiting in case it happens again. You relax against the pillows. Dean shifts, bending over and pressing his lips to the side of your stomach, mumbling, “What are you doin’ in there?”

You can’t help but smile, the warmness filling you, making your heart flutter in your chest as you watch your husband in the dim light. He’s so excited, so loving, and fuck, he’s going to be the best dad.

You reach out, running your fingers through his hair, over his rough cheek and Dean looks at you, his eyes shining.

“I love you,” you whisper.

He grins, leaning over you so he can press his lips against yours, “I love you too sweetheart.”


	24. Thigh Riding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean helps you through the later half of your pregnancy

**October 2014**

The overhead light flips on in the kitchen, making you jump, mouth full of the cereal you had been shoveling in your mouth stuck there as you glance up and see Dean standing in the doorway. He’s half asleep, his hair sticking everywhere, squinting at you, “Sweetheart, what are you doing?”

You chew quickly, swallowing in a big gulp, “I was hungry.”

He rubs his eyes, “What time is it?”

“A little after four.”

He tightens his robe, shuffling towards you, sliding the chair opposite out and plopping down, “Dinner not enough?”

You stir the contents of the  bowl, shaking your head, “I just woke up and had to eat something…I was freaking starving.”

He chuckles, rubbing his eyes, “I coulda made you something.”

“I wasn’t gonna wake you up, do you want some?” you take another bite, chewing.

“What’s in it?”

Oh shit, you don’t really even remember, “Uh- Captain Crunch, chocolate syrup, and I think pretzels and, yeah, I think that’s it.”

He laughs, shaking his head, “I think I will pass… Are you eating pickles at the same time?”

You look guiltily to the jar beside you, “Maybe.”

He sits back, looking at you with that smirk on his face. You glance down at the bowl, “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he laughs low.

You smile, taking another bite, feeling the thump of your baby kicking again. Kid’s been going at it since you woke up about twenty minutes ago, actually, you are pretty sure that’s what woke you up. You put your hand over your belly, feeling it from both sides and Dean sees it, getting up and coming around the table, kneeling beside your chair. He puts his hand next to yours, feeling the next kick.

He smiles like a goof, pressing a kiss to your stomach before mumbling, “Peanut, you gotta let your mom sleep or she’s gonna be crabby tomorrow.”

“Am not,” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. Dean smiles up at you, reaching up, his lips finding yours as he stands, kissing you gently.

“You should be around you when you don’t get your six hours,” he winks.

You nip at his bottom lip, giggling, “That’s because I want eight.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, “Do you want me to make you some real food?”

You shake your head, rubbing your hand on his hip, “I’m good, I’ll be back to bed soon.”

“Ah,” he shrugs, “I’m up now, I’m hungry, I’m gonna make a sandwich.”

He goes to the fridge, digging through it as he mumbles to himself, tossing stuff on the counter, grabbing a plate. Your spoon scrapes the bottom of the bowl, and there’s no more pickles in the jar and you’re still hungry. Dammit.

“Here,” Dean slides a plate in front of you, “no turkey.”

He sits across from you again, his piled high with it and ham and roast beef. Ever since you got pregnant, the turkey lunch meat has made you sick to your stomach, it will make you dry heave for hours. You smile, reaching across and putting your hand over his, squeezing, “Thank you.”

He smiles back, flipping his hands so he can squeeze yours, “No problem sweetheart.”

“Are we even going back to bed?” you chuckle, ripping the sandwich in half.

“Probably not, I told Sam I’d do a little digging for that hunt he’s on.”

You giggle, “He doesn’t have time to research cause Eileen’s keeping him busy with other things.”

“Ugh, I’m eating,” Dean groans.

“Because that’s going to stop you from eating the rest of that,” you raise an eyebrow.

“Hey,” he smirks, taking a bite, “one of these days it might. And don’t sit there and pretend like you had nothing to do with those two getting together.”

You smirk, “I just gave Sam a gentle shove in the right direction.”

“Oh, we’re calling that a gentle shove now?”

“Yep,” you take a big bite and Dean shakes his head, laughing low. Sam and Eileen had been tip-toeing around the are we together or not thing for a few months. You had conveniently sent them in the direction of a few hunts, had a long talk with Sam and, well, now they were a thing. Normally you weren’t the meddling type, but those two were just so right for each other and they deserved to be happy.

You get up, giving Dean a gentle squeeze on the shoulder, bending down to kiss him on the cheek, “I’ll make you some coffee, and then after you’re done with the research, do you want to go look for stuff for your baby’s room?”

His arm snakes around your waist, pulling you to sit on his thigh, “How about Sam does his own research and we go do that?”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your lips to his, “Nice try Winchester, stores don’t open until ten anyways.”

“I can think of a lot more fun ways to kill time than research,” he smirks, his olive eyes searching your face.

“No Dean.”

He groans, rolling his eyes, “You’re no fun.”

“I know, I’m absolutely awful,” you rest your forehead against his.

His hand runs up and down your side as he presses his lips against yours, “I think I can convince you…Like maybe we could take this back to the bedroom.”

You giggle against his lips as he nips at them, “Keep talking Winchester.”

“Hmm,” he presses kisses down your neck, smiling, “I could just keep using this mouth…”

You hook your finger under his chin, at this point you really can’t deny that you would rather be doing that than plugging away at an old book. Lately you have been what you like to call the two big H’s: hungry and horny. Not that you’d ever been able to get enough of Dean anyways.

He closes the little distance between you, pecking you on the lips, “So what’s the verdict sweetheart?”

You twist, half standing before straddling his lap, your belly keeping you from getting too close, but your arms wrap around the back of his neck, “I think I could be swayed.”

He smiles, moving the robe over so he can kiss your collarbone, scraping his teeth over the ridge. He stands up quickly, holding you up by the back of your thighs, you squeaking with surprise as you cling to him.

He chuckles at your reaction, moving easily as he steals kisses, working his way down the hallway, “I’m not gonna drop you, gimme a little more credit.”

“Well it’s not like I’m getting huge or anything,” you mumble as he toes open your bedroom door. You’ve been noticing it a lot more lately, the way there is no chance in hell you can see your toes standing, how you sometimes accidentally bump into stuff when you aren’t careful, the damn maternity pants that, though comfy, just weren’t what you were used to.

“Well it’s not like you have a little person inside you or anything,” he mummers against your skin as he sits down on the edge of the bed, you straddling his legs, your knees giving you leverage on the mattress as his fingers start running over your face, his lips never leaving yours for more than a second.

His one hand drops, working at the knot on your robe, untying it and pushing it from your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor behind you.

“Goddamn,” he hisses between his teeth, his fingers moving over your skin, tracing your collarbone, your scars, down between your breasts. You tangle your fingers in his short hair, peppering kisses over his face and down his neck as he dips down, nipping at your skin.

He growls low against you, the sound going straight to your pussy as he sucks a dark mark on the top of your breast. You can’t help it, your legs shake, you want him so bad, you love feeling him inside of you. Without thinking you move over a little, grinding down on his exposed thigh, desperate for friction.

You grind against his thick, muscled thigh, moaning as your clit rubs his skin even though with your stomach you don’t have much room. His mouth stops and you glance up, his mouth parted, tongue peeking between his lips as he watches you intently. His fingers grip your hips, pulling you down on him, encouraging your movements.

“Here sweetheart,” he growls, lifting you a little until you get the hint to stand, Dean guiding your movements to turn around as he scoots to the very edge of the bed. He pulls you down onto his one thigh, bracing himself, holding you against it, “Keep going.”

He’s giving you move room, guiding you to rub yourself against him. You push your hips forward and back, the contact with your clit making you moan obscenely, makes your entire body quiver. And pretty soon the top of his thigh is slippery from how wet you are, dripping all over, sliding on your slick.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his hard cock bouncing against you, his hands pulling you down against him, encouraging you to move faster. And you have no way to balance yourself with your hands but you don’t care, Dean’s holding on to you and he’s not gonna let go, so your fingers grip over his.

You whimper, your legs shaking as you struggle to keep an even pace, your hips bucking erratically, “D-dean.”

He presses his lips to your shoulder, “Fuck Y/N, c’mon baby.”

You whine in response, unable to form words as you grind faster, harder and you can feel the muscles in his thigh flex against your pussy, “Oh g-god.”

You gasp,  Dean letting you use his body to take yourself higher, your body hot and needy, chasing it’s release. The pressure building inside of you explodes, your back arching as you call out his name. Your hips thrust erratically, circling and jerking, drawing out your orgasm as it washes through you and Dean holds you close to him, steady. It’s a good thing he does because you probably would have fallen off his leg if he hadn’t, your body shuddering and your vision white.

Dean kisses your neck, biting at the skin, punctuating his words,  “Do you have any fucking idea how sexy you are?”

You mumble incoherently, these days stuff like this took it out of you, but you can never, ever get enough of him. Dean wraps his arms around you, holding your shaking body against him.  You know you don’t always think you’re sexy, but you know Dean believes it, he always shows you like this, he always knows what to do to make you believe him.

When you can kinda control your body you pry away his fingers, slipping out of his arms. You want, you need to make him feel as good as he makes you feel. You spin on the balls of your feet, kneeling down between his legs, taking his cock in your hand, stroking slowly. The precum leaks from the tip and as you rest your elbows on his thighs you can feel you come all over his right one.

“Sweetheart,” he mumbles, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling it away from your face. You run your tongue on the prominent vein on the underside from the base to the tip, Dean grunting low.

You tease the head, the tip of your tongue running over the slit before you take him shallowly in your mouth, swirling your tongue. Dean hisses between his teeth, fingers tightening in your hair as you slowly sink down, taking him until your nose brushes the ginger hairs at the base, making you gag a little. Dean strains, his thighs tightening along with the muscles of his stomach, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

You set a steady rhythm, bobbing up and down, sucking slightly at the tip and swallowing around his length as you struggle not to choke on him. You move your hand, taking his balls and rolling them between your fingers, Dean tries to grab your chin, “Y/N, you gotta stop. I-I’m gonna-…”

But you don’t care, you want him to so you push his hand away and ignore his warning as his cock throbs against your tongue, heavy against it. You knew he was on edge from watching you get yourself off and you want nothing more than to give him the same amount of pleasure he gives you.

You sink down, taking him deep again and his feet dig into the floor, his hips thrusting off the bed, his stomach muscles clenching as his cock jumps, his warm come coating your throat as he spills. Dean grunts low, his hips jerking, bucking off the bed as he struggles to breathe.

You hold the base as you let him slip from your mouth, placing a small kiss to the tip that makes him suck in a breath and he lets himself fall back on the bed, his muscles still clenching over and over as his orgasm racks through him.

Gingerly, you crawl over him, resting over his thighs as you lean down and press butterfly kisses across his chest. You’re working your way over his tattoo when you feel his fingers brush your hair away from your face. You glance up at him under your lashes and he’s smiling, “You’re turn sweetheart.”

“Dean, I-I can’t…”

“Yes you can,” his voice doesn’t leave any room for your nerves to creep in as he pulls you over him, up his body, guiding you over his face. His arms wrap around your thighs, finding your hands, fingers lacing with yours. You haven’t done this in awhile, not since you couldn’t see him anymore past your stomach and for a moment, you feel self conscious, but those thoughts are soon forgotten as you feel his lips pressing against your inner thigh.

He groans appreciatively against your pussy, inhaling deeply as his nose splits your folds, tracing your entrance, brushing over your clit, making you jump. Dean holds you tight with his arms, his tongue following the same pattern as his nose with more pressure, “G-god, Dean.”

He chuckles low, licking the same strip again before his lips wrap around your clit, sucking the swollen, sensitive nub. You squeeze his fingers hard as your hips jerk, grinding yourself lightly against his face, his scruff giving this delicious scratch that contrasts with his lips and tongue.

The noises are downright fucking obscene, your moans, his growls, the slurping, wet sounds that come from his mouth moving perfectly against your pussy, his tongue dipping into your entrance, fucking you slowly.

But it is this slow motion that build you ups fast, it sets your skin on fire and embers burn just below the surface, making you insane with need, “Dean, please, fuck.”

You don’t know what you are saying anymore, you know you don’t make sense, but Dean knows exactly what you need. His tongue flicks over your clit, his teeth scraping over it, giving you a new sensation, driving you to the edge, but not pushing you over, just making you want him even more.

His sucks on the bud again, harder, leaving you falling apart on top of him, “De-Dean.”

Your fingers clench around his, your pussy fluttering, pulsing around nothing until his tongue dips in, exploring as you come. Your back arches but then you bend forward, the intensity bringing tears to the corners of your eyes. You cry out his name, swearing, and fuck you want more but your clit is so sensitive his warm breath fanning over it make you twitch even through the trembling.

Dean nips your inner thigh and you whimper as he slides out from between your legs, his hands leaving yours for a moment only for them to find your hips, pulling them up and adjusting them with one hand as he pushes your shoulders forward to the mattress with the other.

His fingers leave your skin, running through the lips of your pussy and you whine as his hand flattens, tapping lightly. You gasp, shuddering, the small slaps sending jolts of electricity through your body.

He teases you, the head of his hard cock sliding through your folds, the head bumping against your clit. You grip the sheets, “Please Dean, want you.”

“Fuck Y/N,” you can feel his cock twitch against you, “Tell me what you want sweetheart.”

“Please Dean, please fuck me,” and even though your over-sensitive body is in protest, you want nothing more than to feel him deep inside you.

He presses his cock against your entrance, his hips bucking forward, pushing himself to the hilt inside of you in that one smooth motion. You yell, your pussy clenching, adjusting to him buried inside.

“Move, please move,” you beg, feeling primal and animalistic, wanting him to fuck you until you’re exploding around him.

But he doesn’t, slowly pulling as far back as he can before sliding back in at the same languid speed.

“Dean,” you whine, he’s teasing and it is driving you into madness. He pulls back again, going until just the tip of his cock rest inside you and you mentally prepare yourself for the slow push back in.

But Dean holds, even as your hips wiggle, willing him to move, waiting.

Then he grips your hips tight, slamming back into you so hard the smack of his hips against your ass echos off the stone. You yelp, surprised as he sets the pace, fast and hard, pounding into you again and again as you yell for him, beg him for more.

Your arms give out, your face pressing against the bed as he fucks you, holding you still as he bucks his hips, his cock hitting that spot indies you that makes you crazy, that takes you higher as he drives into you again and again so hard you feel the air punch out of your lungs. Or maybe it’s you can’t take in a full breath because you can’t stop moaning and screaming for him. Either way, the head rush only adds to the fire building in your lower belly.

Every sound you make his cock jumps inside of you, twitching as he grunts, pushing himself faster. And you probably sound pornographic, but you don’t care, you can’t help it, you just know how good it feels as every muscle in your body tightens.

“Pl-Dean, g-god,” you stutter, his one hand pressing into your back, making it arch, changing the way his cock hits, brushing against your g-spot, your orgasm taking you by surprise, consuming you.

Your fingers grip the sheets so hard your knuckles hurt as you cry out for him, your pussy clenching around him, Dean falling forward, his arm wrapping around you as his pace slows to nothing, his cock buried deep inside you, throbbing as your orgasm pulls him to his own.

Your body goes rigid, screams getting caught in your throat, coming out as choked sobs of his name as you collapse on the bed, Dean tight around you as his hips buck shallowly, cock spilling his warm come against your walls.

Your breath comes in shallow gasps as you lay on your side, Dean holding you close. Your head hurts a little from the intensity, your vision still settling to normal as his hands rub over you, his softening cock still resting inside your fluttering core.

“Shh sweetheart,” he brushes your plastered hair away from your sweaty skin, kissing your cheek gently, “shh.”

You’re exhausted, spent, you don’t think you can lift your head if you tried, all your limbs heavy. Dean’s warmth washes through you, comforting you, your eyelids falling, “Dean.”

He presses kisses to your bare skin, “Just rest sweetheart, I’m right here.”

_______

Dean is wrapped around you from behind, his fingers brushing over your stomach in nonsense patterns, back and forth. He presses his lips to the back of your shoulder, “Look who’s awake.”

“Hmm?” you blink a few times.

He chuckles low, “You fell asleep on me sweetheart.”

“Sorry,” you mumble, taking his hand and lacing your fingers with it, and Dean holds you tighter.

“I don’t mind one bit sweetheart,” he kisses your skin again, “Do you want to get ready and go shopping?”

You bust out laughing, those are words you never thought in a million years you would hear Dean say.

“What are you laughin’ at?”

“You? Shopping? It’s just funny.”

“Shut-up,” he chuckles, pulling you tight and laughing low, blowing a raspberry against your neck.  

You giggle, trying to shove his face away.

He stops, pulling you to look at him, and his face is guarded, shy and a little emotional,  “I’m just excited for her.”

You boop his nose, making him crack a smile, “I know Dean, me too.”

____

Dean’s arm is around you as you stroll through the aisles dedicated to baby stuff and honestly, it’s a little overwhelming. Like you have a list of the basic essentials, but who knew there were so many options for cribs? Why are there fifty kinds of diapers?

Dean squeezes you, “What are you thinking?”

“There’s too many options,” you chuckle nervously, reaching out and touching a blanket before glancing up at him.

He takes a big breath, “Yeah…Okay, so let’s start easy, what color do you want to do the room?”

“Green,” you say without hesitation.

“Okay then,” he chuckles, “why?”

You swallow hard, a little embarrassed, “It’s my favorite color- like your eyes- and it isn’t pink or blue or anything typical.”

“Did I just hear that green is Y/N Winchester’s favorite color because it’s the color of my eyes?” he teases.

“Shut-up,” you grumble, blushing, rambling, “I-I didn’t really used to have a favorite color and then one day I realized green was and I realized why.”

He hooks a finger under your chin, making you look at him, “Green it is.”

He kisses you gently, smiling against your lips before lacing his fingers with yours, “So let’s go find a crib and I can paint the room green.”

“Okay, I’m going to go grab a cart and we can put a dent in this list,” you stand on tiptoes, kissing his cheek, his scruff rough against your lips before heading to the front, taking a cart.

Dean’s not where you left him. Hmm. You look by the cribs too, he’s not there either. Dammit.

You turn two more aisles before you spot him in the middle of some racks,  he’s gigantic, it’s not like he’s difficult to spot.

“Dean?” you say his name but he doesn’t look up from whatever he is concentrating on.

“Dean?” you’re close and you can see the little pink dress he’s looking at, that’s so tiny in his huge hands. You’re heart melts in your chest and you touch his elbow before wrapping your fingers around his arm.

Dean jumps in place, “Oh-uh, sorry sweetheart.”

“It’s okay,” you rest your head against his shoulder, “you really want a little girl, don’t you?”

“I just know she is,” he swallows hard, clearing his throat as he puts it back on the rack, “I, uh, I found this.”

He pulls out a teddy bear with a green bow from under his other arm, it’s light tan and fuzzy. You take it off of him, smiling as he brushes his knuckles against your belly.

You run your fingers over the soft bear, thinking about how much time you have ahead of you, how much your life is going to change. It scares you, but it’s like this risk that’s so worth it because this is everything you never thought you would have. For the first time in your life, you are thinking about the long haul, the future.

You place the bear in the cart, smiling up at Dean, rubbing his chest. He takes your hand, kissing it before glancing around, “Uh-I saw this one crib that you’ll like, let me find it again…”

He takes the end of the cart, pulling it around and when he’s not looking you grab the little pink dress, hiding it under the bear and a blanket. Maybe Dean’s right, maybe you’ll have a little girl.  

______

**November 2014:**

You sniffle, then start coughing, feeling like you are choking up a lung. It’s been like this for three days and this cold is kicking your ass and you haven’t been able to sleep. You feel like shit.

“Sweetheart?” Dean’s voice is low as the door opens.

“I’m not asleep,” you push yourself up to sit, turning the TV down, shoveling all the Kleenexes you missed into the wastebasket. Yeah, you’re a fucking mess, a wreck and you are too tired to care.

He has a bowl in one hand, and even through all the snot and plugged up head you can smell the chicken noodle soup, “Do you want to eat something?”

You sigh, forcing a smile before you start coughing again, “I probably should.”

“That’s how I know you’re actually sick,” he jokes, crossing the room and sliding to sit facing you. You take two bites before setting it aside, you’re just not hungry and your head is throbbing.

Dean looks you over, his brow furrowed, the worry plastered on him as he touches your face. You try to reassure him, “I’ll be fine, I just need some sleep.”

“You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” you laugh but it quickly turns to hacking.

He rolls his eyes, “You know what I mean.”

“I’ll be alright, I promise, stop worrying.”

He chuckles, “I can’t do that.”

Dean puts his hands on either side of your face, pressing his lips against your forehead, and as your eyes close they burn like hell, the exhaustion taking its toll.

“I’m going to try to sleep again.”

He nods, flipping off the lights as you lay down, pulling the covers up. You just about get settled in when you feel the bed dip behind you, “Dean, you are going to get yourself sick.”

“I don’t care,” he mumbles, his arm wrapping around you as he spoons you, his hand running over your belly.

“We both don’t need to be sick. I-”

“I’m not going anywhere Y/N,” his voice is matter of fact and you realize you aren’t going to change his mind.

“Dean,” you wiggle, rolling over to face him, your fingertips tracing his face, “I really don’t want to get you-”

“Sweetheart,” he mimics your movements before taking you hand in his and squeezing it, pressing his lips to your knuckles, “you’re my wife, you’re the mother of my baby and I’m not leaving you here, alone and sick. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But-”

“You’d do the same thing for me,” he brushes your hair back. You would, and you have when it’s been reversed.

“Yeah but you bitch me out for staying too.”

He chuckles, “I know.”

You sigh, giving up. Truth be told, having him here was so much better than trying to sleep alone. He adjusts you so your head is laying on his arm. Dean kisses you one more time, scooting as close as he can, pressed tight against your belly, his fingers running over it absentmindedly.

You can’t help but smile to yourself, it’s so weird. Sick people would usually gross the two of you out, hell, Dean’s about half a step away from being a germaphobe, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because you are both the most important people in each other’s lives.

At some point you doze off, Dean’s low voice bringing you back and you open your eyes slowly as he presses a kiss to your stomach, “You don’t know this yet kiddo, but I love you so much. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you or your mom.”

He runs his hand over and you can feel the small kick and your heart melts as you keep watching because he has no idea you’re awake yet, “I’m scared shitless but I can’t wait to get to hold you Peanut… And I know you’re going to be all Y/N, so just take it easy on your old man, okay?”

You can’t help but chuckle and Dean glances up at you, blushing so hard you can see it in the dim light. You run your fingers through his short hair, “You’re going to be a great dad.”

He presses a kiss you the inside of your wrist, “I hope you’re right.”

“I know I am.”

He lays back beside you, “I just-I worry about her so much already, you know?”

“Everything is okay Dean, we are fine,” you touch your stomach, feeling the small kick again.

“God, I just hope she’s just like you.”

“You are so stuck on it being a girl,” you tease, “what if I have a boy that’s like you?”

He busts out laughing, “Then we will have our hands full. But I’m telling you, it’s a girl.”

“Okay,” you don’t know why he’s so damn sure, even at that checkup you had both told the doc you didn’t want to know the gender, but Dean has never stopped saying girl.

You snuggle up against him again, only sniffling a little bit and avoiding the cough, “Have you thought about any names yet?”

He shakes his head, “I can’t think of anything I like, you know? Like nothing fits.”

“I don’t know yet, I’ve been flipping through stuff online and I can’t seem to find anything I love.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he kisses you gently as you roll to your back. Dean wraps his arm around you, pressing his lips under your ear as you both settle in. You fall back to sleep, Dean wrapped warmly around you.

_________

**December 2014:**

Dean’s arm wraps around you from behind in the kitchen, his lips pressing against the top of your head, “I can do that sweetheart.”

You’re drying the dishes from dinner, “I’ve got it.”

He kisses down your neck, “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod, taking a step away from him and grabbing another dish. You can feel his confusion, but you can’t help it, you feel like shit, you have for a week. Luckily, he let’s it drop and heads back to the war room where Sam and Eileen are.

You put the last of them away, and you know he’s waiting for you to come back, but you can’t face him right now, you just want to be alone. You take the long way around, avoiding them, heading for your room.

You sit down on the chair in the corner, pulling your legs under you, flipping on the TV, the numbness filling you. It doesn’t take fifteen minutes and there is a soft knock on the door, “Sweetheart? Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you nod like a bobble head doll, refusing to look at him.

The door shuts, and his footsteps draw close, “You wanna try that again?”

You swallow hard, shaking your head, “Nothing.”

He sighs, kneeling down on the floor in front of you, his hand taking yours in his, “Y/N, not to sound like an ass, but you’ve barely let me touch you in a week, that’s not like you. What’s going on in that pretty head?”

You look at the wall, “How could you even want to right now?”

“What the hell are you talking ab-”

You snap, “I’m talking about how I’m a mess. I’m huge, my ankles are swollen, I’ve tried everything to avoid stretch marks, but they’re there. I’m crabby, I’m emotional, and I feel like a damn crazy person. And-and I think I fucking waddle like a damn duck!”

You’re trying not to cry, you know what you are thinking is stupid, but it doesn’t mean you don’t feel it.

“Sweetheart,” his voice is soft, his hand cupping your chin and forcing you to look up, “Y/N, you need to listen to me, okay?”

You swallow hard and nod, keeping your eyes on his even when his hand falls away, “Y/N, I love you no matter what and…” he trails off, glancing down at his hands, chewing on his bottom lip, “You know, some nights I wake up and I see you laying by my side, and half the time you’re wrapped around me, and sometimes you’re snoring and all I can fucking think about is how the hell did I get so damn lucky? I don’t deserve a damn bit of it, but somehow-”

“Dean-,” you grab his hand but he shakes his head, half smiling before he swallows hard.

“And I think about how I got it all. I mean, I’ve got this smokin’ wife, and she’s sexy and beautiful,” he squeezes your hand, looking at it, “but she’s also smart, I mean fucking run rings around me smart, and sarcastic and funny, and fuck, she’s badass, like can put me on my ass badass.”

You can’t help but choke a little on the small sob as you giggle and he smiles, brushing away the tear, “And I love her so damn much it hurts,” he points to his chest, “It makes my heart hurt how much I love her. But that’s not what gets me the most sweetheart, what gets me the most is when she looks at me like she’s looking at me now…What gets me the most is how much you love me and how I can see it and fucking feel it. And there’s no strings attached and I don’t need to be afraid of it like I’ve been my whole damn life…It’s that you love me so much you are willing to do this with me, hell, have my kid because you love me that much.”

The tears are streaming down his face and he can’t control it. You take his face between your hands, thumbs brushing away the tears as you press your lips to his.

“I love you so much Y/N and I’m never gonna stop.”

You press your forehead against his, not able to hold back your own tears anymore, “I love you too Dean, more than anything.”

____________

**January 2015**

“Y/N!” Dean’s voice bounces off the stone walls.

“In the library!” You shout back, setting your laptop to the side, waiting as you hear his steps echo.

“C’mon,” he says excitedly as he steps in.

“Where are we going?” You giggle, pushing yourself out of the chair, which at this point is a feat. You feel like when you walk now you always have lean back, you’re due any day now and this kid needs to get out.

“You’ll see,” he takes your hand, his fingers lacing with yours as he leads you through the hallways. It doesn’t take you much to figure out where you are going, he’s been working on the baby’s room since Christmas and he hasn’t let you anywhere near it.

It’s two doors down from yours and he stops outside of it, his hand on the knob, “Ready?”

You nod, taking a deep breath. You know it’s going to be perfect, fuck, Dean had worked his ass off on it, but you can see how excited he is to share this with you. He opens the door slowly, pulling you in the room as he walks backwards, never looking away from his face.

“Oh my god,” you whisper. The walls are an olive green, the soft lighting of the room making it feel warm. There are little paintings of teddy bears and you have no idea where he found them but they are cute as hell. The crib is against the one wall, painted white with a matching changing table, and a rocker in the corner where that teddy bear he had found at the store sits.

He lets you take a step past him, your eyes wandering the little details, the storage areas he built in, the stuffed animals sitting on ledges, “Dean-”

“Do you like it?” He wraps his arms around your shoulders from behind, resting his chin on your head.

“Dean, I love it,” you whisper, gripping his forearms, dipping your head to place a kiss against his warm skin.

He squeezes you, “Good, cause I’m not changing it now.”

You chuckle, knowing he would in a heartbeat but there is no part of this room you aren’t in love with. You shift, looking up at him and he cranes his neck to press his lips to yours, smiling against them more than kissing you as one of his hands falls to your swollen stomach, running over it lightly.

“What about Evelyn?” You say against his lips, you’d found the name earlier today when you were going through research for Sam, it was the name of a hunter in the Men of Letters records and you just fell in love with it for some reason.

“I thought you weren’t convinced it’s a girl,” he laughs, fingers continuing to make nonsense patterns.

You touch his cheek, your thumb rubbing over his chin, “But you are.”

He nuzzles against your cheek, “Evelyn, huh? I think I like it….But you’re always gonna be Peanut.”

You giggle, “It’s hard to believe any day a tiny person is going to be in this room.”

“I know, we did this, “ you can physically feel the awe and pride in his voice.

“I couldn’t ever imagine doing this with anyone else. I couldn’t do it with anyone else.”

He spins you so you’re facing him, his fingers hooking under your chin, “Me too sweetheart.”

His olive eyes are so full of light and warmth, it makes your heart clench in your chest, “Three years ago, did you ever think we’d be standing here?”

“Not in a million years,” he chuckles.

“Me neither,” you bite your lip, “I’m really happy we are.”

He nods, pressing his lips to yours, kissing you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours in a perfect rhythm. But you break it as you grimace, inhaling sharply.

“You okay Y/N?” Dean cups your chin, face clouding with worry.

You nod quickly, “Yeah, I think so, I think she just nailed me good with that kick.”

It didn’t feel like a typical kick though, it hit so hard you felt it in your back. But when it doesn’t happen again you just chalk it up to the fact that your back is always a little sore on some level these days.

He pushes down the concern, or at least tries to, “Do you want to get some rest? I can finish cleaning up in here and I’ll be right there.”

“Sure,” you smile, kissing him again before rubbing his arm and heading to your room, ready for a good night’s sleep.

______

You jolt awake, soaking wet. You are sweating your ass off, you just had the world’s worst fucking nightmare, your heart is still racing even though the worst part is you can’t quite remember what was happening.

But then the pain shots through you, it’s not really like anything you’ve ever felt, worse than a cramp, less than getting stabbed but not by much. You swallow uncomfortably, adjusting and you realize it’s not just sweat, the sheets are soaked. You throw back the covers panicking, shoving Dean’s shoulder, “Wake up.”

He groans and you shove him again, reaching for the light on the nightstand, “Dean, get up.”

“Wha-” He blinks grumpily against the light, rubbing his eyes.

“Dean, I think- Dean my water broke.”


	25. Epilouge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time you and Dean had sex, you never thought you would end up where you are today, starting a new part of your lives

**January 5th, 2015 - 1:43AM**

“Dean, I think- Dean my water broke.”

“What?” He bolts up, trying to jump off the bed, but the covers and sheets snag his legs and he hits the ground with a hard thump, all the blankets ripped off the bed with him, “Son of a bitch.”

“Dean, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he tries to bounce up but his legs are still tangled so he faceplants again. You can’t help but laugh, but it’s cut off as the contraction racks through your body. Jesus Christ, you don’t scream but it hurts like a mother fucker, manageable, it’s not like being tortured, but fuck it hurts.

Dean struggles to get up, finally getting his footing, rushing to your side of the bed, “Sweetheart, are you alright?”

You nod quickly, “Yeah.”

He takes your face between his hands, kissing your forehead, “Let’s get you in clothes, I’m going to grab your to go bag and get you to the Impala.”

Your heart races in your chest, you’re scared, nervous, “Dean, this is it.”

“I know baby, let’s get you to the hospital, alright?”

You nod and he presses his lips to yours before grabbing your elbows, not letting go until you’re on your feet, a little unsteady. He leaves you for a moment and you feel dizzy, unable to focus, fuck. He comes back with a sweatshirt and sweatpants, quickly helping you in them, “I don’t want you to freeze to death on the way.”

You try to say something but are unable to, grabbing his shirt until your knuckles go white as the next contraction comes.

“Y/N?”

“Dean, we need to get there.”

“Okay, okay, c’mon. “ He holds on to your hand but you take a couple of steps and feel like you are going to throw up, grabbing him for support.

“Fuck it,” his arms wrap around your shoulders and behind your knees, your feet leaving the ground as he picks you up, pulling you to his chest, never breaking stride. He jogs through the halls, mumbling nonsense to you, telling you everything is going to be fine.

Somehow he gets the Impala open, setting you inside on the passengers side and he sprints and jumps in the driver’s seat. Before he can turn the key you let out a small squeak as the next one rips through you, you know you’ve had worse and you’re trying to tough it out, but goddammit, it hurts like a bitch.

Dean notices, tearing out of the garage, grabbing your hand, lacing your fingers together and holding tightly, “Talk to me sweetheart.”

“It’s hard to breathe,” you whine, trying to focus, “and it hurts like hell.”

“I know baby, just give me twenty minutes, I’ll get you there. Were you having contractions earlier?”

You nod, “I think so, they didn’t hurt like this, I didn’t think it was-…” You gasp as the next one hits you and he turns on the highway, glancing down at his watch, “Fuck, son of a bitch.”

“What?”

“You’re at about two minutes.” He grumbles, “Not to be a downer but I don’t think I can deliver a kid in a car so I need you to hold on sweetheart and try to relax.”

You nod, biting your lip, trying to stay calm but you are freaking out. You scoot over, pressing your face against his shoulder, trying to focus on just breathing evenly as the miles pass slowly under the tires. His hand leaves yours, tangling in your hair as he twists and presses a kiss to the top of your head, “It’s okay sweetheart, take it easy. Five more minutes.”

In those five minutes you have another one that lasts long, taking your breath away, punching it out of your lungs and it’s all you can do not to start crying. By the time he pulls in you are gripping onto his arm so hard you don’t know how you aren’t hurting him.

Dean doesn’t bother with a parking spot, just slams the car in park right in front of the hospital doors, pulling you out the driver’s side and into his arms, you try to protest but a contraction hits you and you just don’t have it in you to argue. You don’t know how you are going to get through this, you’re already exhausted.

Dean sprints through the automatic doors, “Hey, I need some help here! My wife’s havin’ a baby.”

There’s a lot of noise, a lot of people rushing towards you, but you barely even notice it, all you can focus on is your body betraying you and Dean as you try to distract yourself from the pain. But that is hardly working.

Dean sets you on the wheelchair and a nurse is asking you questions but you don’t really hear what she’s saying, biting your bottom lip hard as the contraction rips through you, lasting longer than the last.

“Y/N, you need to breathe,” the nurse instructs, staying beside you as Dean pushes you through the hospital hallways.

You pull in short breaths, trying to calm yourself down, but you’re scared, more afraid than you’ve ever been in your entire life, “Dean.”

His hand grips your shoulder as he turns in the room after the nurse, “I’m right here sweetheart.”

“Let’s get her out of those clothes and up on the bed,” the nurse orders and then starts shouting down the hall for some help.

Dean helps you up, making quick work of your clothes, getting you into the hospital gown. And normally, you would be self conscious as fuck, but right now you could care less, you just want the pain to fucking stop.

You don’t know how you get on the bed, just the next thing you know the nurse is putting your feet into those goddamn stirrups, yelling for a doctor and Dean is holding your hand.

You try to breathe but your body hurts so bad, you’re sweating and trying like hell not to cry as you grind your teeth together.

Another lady rushes in blue scrubs, you realize it’s Dr. Bell.

“Alight Y/N let’s see where we are at,” she’s so fucking calm as she sits on a stool between your spread legs and it pisses you off, “Baby is crowning, everything looks normal and we are ready to go Y/N. I’m going to need you to push with the next contraction, nice and easy.”

Nice and easy? Who the fu-…Your contraction hits you and you let your body do the work, holding your breath as you push, fuck it hurts so much.

“Dean, I can’t, I can’t…”

“Yes you can sweetheart,” he presses a kiss to your sweaty forehead, brushing your hair away from your face.

You squeeze his hand tight, you don’t know how you aren’t breaking it as you try to push again when the next wave hits. You try and try and it stops and you are left panting heavily, the tears streaming down your cheeks, “Fuck.”

Dr. Bell, raises her voice, “Y/N, you are almost there, just one more big push this time around, can you do that for me?”

You nod at the doc, holding Dean’s hand tighter. He kisses the top of your head, “You got this sweetheart, you’ve got this…”

You can’t help but groan as the next contraction takes you, whimpering with the pain as you push frantically, willing with everything you have. And you feel the pressure inside you release as the baby slips from you.

You collapse back against the bed, feeling like you are going to pass out from exhaustion, your vision unfocused and blurry, and everything sounds so far away.

“Congrats, you’ve got a little baby girl.”

The first thing that snaps you back to reality is pure base instinct, you need to see your baby, you need to touch her. The second is her crying, she’s balling like crazy but it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard in your entire life.

The nurse has her in her hands and you push yourself up, reaching for her. The nurse puts her in your arms and you start crying uncontrollably, everything overwhelming you as you look at this tiny little person wail, “Shh, shh you’re okay. You’re okay.”

Her little arms are moving everywhere, and you feel Deans forehead rest against your head as his fingers come into your field of view, touching her tiny hand gently.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, pressing a kiss to your cheek, laughing, letting out a shaky breath.

You glance up at him and he’s just so focused on her, tears at the corners of his eyes. Your heart swells, you didn’t think it was possible, but you swear you love him even more. And you love the baby in your arms with everything you have, and you feel so overwhelmed and complete at the same time. It’s your little family and it is absolutely perfect.

“Hey Peanut,” he runs his fingers over her arm.

“Do you two have a name?” the nurse asks gently.

“Evelyn,” Dean mumbles, his fingertips brushing over her cheek, “Evelyn Marie Winchester.”

You hold her close to your chest, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She’s yours, you still can’t quite believe it.

The nurse touches your other shoulder, drawing your attention, “I’m going to get her cleaned up and weighed, get you guys to a room, and then you can see her again.”

She goes to take her and you don’t want her to even though you know she has to. It’s hard, and you don’t know if it’s hunter instinct or maternal instinct or what but you don’t want to let her go. As much as you struggle, you can feel Dean’s grip on your arm tighten, he’s not going to let her out of his sight. And suddenly, a sort of calm washes over you, she’s already got him wrapped around her finger, she has Dean Winchester for a dad. Everything is going to be okay.

_______

You wake up slowly, the hospital room dark except for the dim light from the TV. Honestly, you don’t remember falling asleep, just talking to Dean while Evie slept in your arms. You groan, looking around confused, spotting Dean sitting on the chair, Evie tucked against his chest.

He watches her as he rocks back and forth, humming so low you can barely hear him, muttering a word to the song every once in awhile. You wish you knew what he was singing, but you can’t make it out.

Dean glances up, his face going wide with a smile as he sees you’re awake, “Hey sleepyhead.” He looks back at Evie, bouncing her a little, “You’re mommy’s finally up there Peanut.”

“Sorry,” you yawn, pushing yourself up to sit straight, stretching.

Dean shakes his head, getting up, “You hadn’t slept good since two days ago, don’t worry about it, you were only asleep for an hour or so. I think I can handle it.”

“I know you can,” you smile.

“It was kinda funny though, you were in the middle of a sentence and passed out.” He sits on the edge next to you, Evie’s awake, but her eyes are drooping as she makes little sounds.

Dean moves his arms, and you reach out, taking her from him, but he runs his fingers over the top of her head, leaning down to kiss her. With your free hand you touch his face, feeling the scruff under your palm and he looks at you, his olive eyes warm as he presses his lips to yours.

“Doc said we can take her home in the morning.”

You nod, resting your forehead against his, “I still can’t quite believe it, that she’s here, with us.”

“I know, fuck I love you both.”

You giggle, “You’re going to have to start watching that mouth eventually.”

He scoffs, teasing,  “I think you’re worse than me.”

You shrug, “Yeah, you’re not wrong.”

“Do you want to get some more sleep? It looks like she is.”

You chuckle, “Nah.”

“Well scoot over, I’m sitting with my girls,” he gets up as you lean forward, making room for him to sit half behind you, leaning back against the bed. You lay your head on the crook of his shoulder, watching Evie sleep as Dean’s fingers play with your hair, “I love you so much Y/N.”

“I love you too Dean.”

_______

**August 2025**

You roll over, grabbing for your phone in the dark, Dean snoring softly, wrapped around you so you can barely more. Your fingertips find it and when you flip it on it blinds you. You squint, trying to turn the brightness down, it is 6:46AM.

Shit, it’s 6:46AM.

“Dean!” you shove him, “Dean! Get up!”

“Hmm, wha-.”

“We forgot to set an alarm, we gotta get the kids on the damn bus!”

“Fuck,” he growls, letting go of you as you jump out of the bed, trying to find some sweat pants to slip on. You only have until 7:30 to get them all up, fed and ready for the bus. Of all days to wake up late, it had to be the first day of school.

You almost faceplant as you run around, trying to get in your damn pants. Dean wraps his arms around your waist, stopping you, “Calm down, we got this, worst case I can drop them on my way to the shop.”

“Positive?”

He kisses your neck, “Yeah, I’ll go get breakfast going and pack lunches.”

“You sure?”

He squeezes you, “I’m sure I don’t want food poisoning.”

“Oh shut up,” you giggle, heading down the hallway. You can hear the dog’s nails clicking off the hardwood as he races up the steps and Dean heads downstairs. He must not have slept in Evie’s room last night, or she was already up and moving, that dog and her were thick as thieves.

“Evie, you up?” You open her door.

“Yeah mom.” She’s already dressed and ready to go in her jeans and plaid shirt Dean had found for her, sorting stuff in her backpack.

“You ready for fifth grade?” You lean against the door.

She nods, all smiles, “Easy peasy.”

“You’re just too smart for your own damn good,” you tease, ruffling her dirty blonde hair, “you going to help me get your brothers and sister up? I think dad’s making pancakes…and maybe bacon.”

“Yes! Bacon,” she fist pumps.

“Well let’s get them moving so we can eat before the bus.”

“Okay,” she hands you her backpack and rushes past you down the hall, yelling, “Kasey! Kyle! Danny! Get up!”

If there is bacon involved she’ll get them going, she’s definitely Dean’s daughter.

You sling the pack over your shoulder, wandering after her and watch the mad dash for the bathroom for brushing teeth. That’s the one nice thing about the first week or so, they are excited as hell to go see their friends. You’ll enjoy it while you can, by October you will have to drag them out of bed. This is it though, the first year of all four of them being on a normal school schedule: Evie in fifth, the twins in second and Danny starting Kindergarten.

Heading downstairs you glance at the clock, twenty more minutes, they’ll be ready by then. You follow the smell of bacon through the entryway to the kitchen. You and Dean had really lucked out with this house, it was huge, and with the Men of Letters money you’d found stashed, it wasn’t a problem to buy it and the adjacent property where Sam and Eileen live with their three kids.

You walk up behind Dean, wrapping your arms around him, he chuckles, turning in your arms. He smiles, the crinkles around his eyes more prominent now, but god his eyes, that bright green has never changed,“Hey beautiful,” his voice is low, and it still makes your heart flutter.

You shake your head, unable to hide the smile as he wraps his arms around you, leaning down to press his lips against yours.

He chuckles, “You still don’t believe me when I say that.”

“I do more than I used to…Cause now you’re not just trying to get laid,” you poke his ribs playfully.

“I haven’t been trying for years sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, and that’s why we have four kids.”

He laughs, “We have four kids because you just can’t get enough of me.”

“Shut-up,” you blush.

He squeezes your shoulders, kissing the top of your head, “Every day you’ve gotten more beautiful.”

“Now I know you are full of shit.”

He hooks his finger under your chin, shaking his head, “I used to think I loved you, but after being with you, after seeing you with our kids, it’s got nothing on how I feel now.”

“You’re still fucking cheesy,” you smile, trying not to let the tears spill out, reaching up and pressing your lips against his.

He nips at your bottom lip, a sly smile spreading across his face, “I’m having flashbacks as to how we ended up with number four.”

You bust out laughing, god you fucking love him. He is far from a perfect man, but he is a damn good one. You never wanted perfect anyways, you always wanted Dean.

“I love you Dean.”

“I love you too sweetheart.”


End file.
